FRANCES  PARKER 


ia 


7)  0 


Marjie   was   speeding  rapidlv   across  the 
prairie." 


MARJIE 


Lower  Ranch 


•EY- 


•*  --* 
Stuttts 

vet  un 


«*j^ss$** 

£tt  ir  Jit 
.BosrojV; 

C.   Af    CLARK  PUBLISHING  CO. 
*9°3- 


COPYPrCHT 

19°?  BY 
C.  M.  CLARK 
PUBLISHING 
CO  M  PA  N  r 

BOSTON,  MASS. 
U  .  S  .  A  . 


ENTERED  AT 

S  TAT  IONERS  HALL 
LONDON  FOREIGN 
COPYRIGHTS  SECURED 


RIGHTS  OF 
TR  A  N  SLAT  I  O  N 
PUBLIC  READ- 
I  N  G  AND 

DRAMATIZATION 
RESERVED 


To 

My  Best  Friend, 
My  Father 


2137S50 


CHAPTERS 


I.      The  Retreat  of  the  Hunted 
II.      The  Boy  Jerry 

III.  Marjie 

IV.  A  New  Phase  of  Life 

V.      Banishment  of  the  Rough 
Element  from  the  Retreat 
VI.      A  Case  Where  Wit  Con 
quers  Obstinacy 
VII.      A  Strange  Recognition 
VIII.     The  Way  of  the  World    . 
IX.      An  Interrupted  Sleep 
X.     A    Nameless    Girl   with  a 

Memory 

XI.      It  was  All  Lady's  Fault     . 

XII.      A    Revelation    of  a    Dark 

Shade  .... 

XII I.  Back  to  the  Dream  Scenes 
Again   .... 

XIV.  What    Did    Marjie  Know 
about  His  Disposition  ? 
The  Work  of  a  Coward    . 
A  Surprising  and   Unusual 
Hold-up 

XVII.      What  Matters  a  Name?     . 

XVIII.      A  Foraging  Party  of  One 

XIX.      Into  the  Very  Nucleus  of 

the  Black  Fancies 
XX.     An  Apalling  Truth 
XXI.      "When    You    are   Well  I 
Will  not  be  so  Particular" 


PAGE. 
I 

I  I 
21 

31 

40 


H5 


CHAPTERS 

PAGB 

XXII.      A  Few  Questions  from  the 

Other  Side      .          .          .207 

XXIII.  A  Pan  of  Doughnuts  and  a 
Proposition      .  .  .215 

XXIV.  The   Stream   Kept  Up  Its 
Loud  Complaint       .  .      225 

XXV.      An  Odd   Elopement           .  235 
XXVI.     When  All  the  World  Went 

Wrong             .          .           .  247 

XXVII.     Then  Came  Winter           .  257 
XXVIII.     Thinking  Things  and  Doing 

Things  .  .  .265 

XXIX.      An    Interrupted    Game    of 

Poker    ....  273 

XXX.      The  Sacrifice  of  a  Character  282 

XXXI.     The  Victim  of  Cunning     .  289 

XXXII.      A  Queer  Kidnapping          .  298 

XXXIII.  Rescued  by  her  Captor      .  310 

XXXIV.  A    Reckless    Ride  and  the 
Story  of  the  Day      .          .317 

XXXV.     Jerry  Turns  Informer         .      326 
XXXVI.      To  the  Mountains  and  His 

Highness         .  .          .340 

XXXVII.      The  Best  Horse  of  a  Bad 

Lot       .          .          .          -345 
XXXVIII.     Where   They  First  Found 

Each  Other    .          .          -355 
XXXIX.     Any  Way  It's  Bad  Luck  to 

Put  Off  a  Wedding  .      368 

XL.      "  I  say  you  shall  wake  up!"      378 
XLI.      What  the  Letter  Told       .      385 
XLII.      Where  They   Found  Each 

Other    .  .          .          .391 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Frontispiece. 

"And    from    his    greater    height    smiled 

down  at  him."    ....  8 

"But    it    ain't   so   all-fired    good    under 

foot." 60 

"  Wid  me  body  an'  soul,  me  darlin' !  "  218 
"An'  you  might  meet  some  other  girl."  330 
"  Then  he  took  her  to  him."  .  .344 

"A  man  seized  Howell  from  behind."         359 

"  The    surprise  was  so  great    that  for  a 

time  she  read  no  more."         .  .386 


Marjie  of  the  Lower  Ranch. 


CHAPTER    I. 


THE  RETREAT  OF  THE  HUNTED. 

MAJORITY  of  the  people  in 
that  part  of  the  country  were 
familiar  with  its  geography 
and  recent  history.  Anyone 
within  a  radius  of  a  hundred  miles  could 
have  told  the  exact  location  of  George 
Ilowell's  ranch,  and  could  have  named 
the  little  creek  which  sprang  from  the 
mountains  above  and  dashed  madly  past 
the  cabin  and  sheds  until  it  reached  the 
Big  River.  They  could  have  told,  to  a 
head,  the  number  of  sheep  that  were 
driven  each  spring  to  the  summer  range 
far  to  the  north.  As  for  the  family  his 
tory,  they  could  have  told  that,  too,  — 


MARJIE  OF  THE  LOWER  RANCH. 

more  than  one  would  care  to  hear  ;  more, 
perhaps,  than  was  strictly  true. 

But  these  settlers,  isolated  to  a  degree, 
must  talk,  even  though  the  Howells 
were  the  best-to-do-people  in  the  country. 
It  not  only  gave  them  much  satisfaction, 
but  served  to  occupy  in  an  agreeable 
manner  many  otherwise  idle  hours  which 
at  times  were  tedious  commonplaces. 

If  any  one  had  told  them  that  they 
knew  absolutely  nothing  of  the  lawless 
ness  and  secret  doings  continually  going 
on  in  that  neighborhood,  their  curiosity 
would  have  prompted  them  to  investi 
gate  ;  but  the  probabilities  are  they  would 
have  found  nothing^  for  was  not  the 
Howell  ranch  the  last  one  on  that  side 
of  the  mountains  ?  One  mile  farther 
up,  at  the  mouth  of  a  timbered  gulch, 
stood  an  old  deserted  cabin,  which  years 
ago  had  been  used  by  the  soldiers  of  a 
now  abandoned  post  as  part  of  a  canton 
ment.  The  most  careful  eye  could  have 
discerned  nothing  suspicious  about  the 
old  building.  It  was  long  past  the  stage 
where  a  human  being  could  live  in  it 


THE   RETREAT    OF   THE    HUNTED. 

with  any  degree  of  comfort.  Their 
search  would  have  ended  there,  so  it  is 
well  for  their  peace  of  mind  that  no 
suspicious  thought  was  entertained.  It 
is  well,  also,  for  this  story,  which  other 
wise  could  never  have  been  written,  that 
they  did  not  discover  a  narrow  trail 
that  circled  the  cabin,  led  a  short  dis 
tance  through  the  timber,  and  then  in  a 
winding  way  up  the  precipitous  side  of 
the  gulch,  down  into  another  gulch, 
not  timbered  as  the  first,  but  covered 
with  a  thick  undergrowth  of  brush. 
The  narrow,  plainly  marked  path  skirted, 
crossed,  and  recrossed  the  brush  and  a 
tiny  stream  for  nearly  two  miles,  leading 
upward  in  a  roundabout  way  until  it 
reached  the  narrow  entrance  of  a  charm 
ing  little  retreat  which  Nature  seemingly 
had  designed  to  be  as  secluded  and  hidden 
as  it  was  picturesque  and  beautiful. 

It  was  a  deep  depression,  only  a  few 
rods  wide,  lying  directly  below  a  round 
ing  ridge,  and  stretching  some  distance 
parallel  with  it.  A  lofty  embankment 
enclosed  this  miniature  valley,  except  for 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

a  small  opening  on  the  east,  through 
which  flowed  a  clear  running  stream  of 
cold  spring  water.  Lashing  the  rocky 
ridge  with  foam,  it  flowed  on  through 
the  opening,  and,  in  an  ever-diminishing 
stream,  down  the  gulch  below. 

This  bit  of  basin  was  carpeted  with 
grass,  while  on  one  side  a  dense  clump  of 
willow  and  choke-cherry  bushes  screened 
from  observation  a  rude  log  hut.  A 
sharp  eye  could  have  detected  signs  of 
habitation  upon  entering  the  valley,  but 
the  ordinary,  unsuspicious  individual 
would  have  taken  in  the  sweet,  fresh 
beauty  of  the  scene  with  a  single  glance, 
perhaps  wandered  a  short  distance  up  the 
stream,  and  then  congratulating  himself 
upon  being  the  first  white  man  to  set 
foot  upon  so  noticeable  a  spot,  would  de 
part.  The  clump  of  bushes  would  have 
no  attraction  for  him,  for  bushes  are 
common  things. 

But  no  one  came  and  no  one  dis 
covered.  It  seemed  that  years  might 
pass  before  a  stranger  would  set  foot  on 
that  secluded  spot.  There  were  other 


THE   RETREAT    OF   THE    HUNTED. 

retreats,  but  none  like  this.  So  thought 
a  man,  who  one  day  in  early  summer 
made  his  way  through  the  bushes  and 
stood  upon  the  bank  of  the  stream,  in 
tently  watching  the  water  as  it  hurled 
and  sprayed  itself  against  the  rocky  wall. 
So  he  had  thought  ten  years  before,  when 
driven  by  despair  and  several  armed  men, 
he  had  by  some  strange  chance  wandered 
through  the  narrow  entrance  of  this  re 
treat  and  found  that  he  was  free. 

Free,  but  dead  to  every  one  that  he 
had  ever  known  or  loved  !  Dead  to  the 
world,  —  yet  hunted.  An  outcast  ? 
Worse  —  an  outlaw  ! 

Yet  it  is  good  to  live  !  To  feel  the 
soft  breeze  fan  one's  fevered  brow,  —  to 
take  deep  draughts  of  that  cold,  life- 
giving  water,  —  to  lie  in  the  shade  of  the 
bushes  and  sleep  until  the  exhausted  body 
recovers  its  strength  —  all  this  is  good, 
even  if  one  is  an  outlaw. 

An  outlaw's  retreat !  This  was  such 
a  place.  It  matters  little  whether  the 
man  was  guilty  or  not ;  he  was  an  outlaw 
and  this  was  his  hiding-place,  the  like  of 

6 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER   RANCH. 

which  one  never  sees,  but  reads  about 
occasionally  and  then  straightway  dis 
believes. 

The  bright  glare  of  the  morning's  sun 
shone  upon  this  man's  uncovered  head  as 
he  stood  deep  in  meditation  beside  the 
stream.  His  thoughts  rapidly  reviewed 
his  life  since  the  morning  that  he  awak 
ened  to  find  the  warm  sun  shining  upon 
him  in  the  shelter  of  this  retreat,  until 
the  present  day.  He  summed  up  the 
good,  the  bad,  the  indifferent,  and  asked 
himself  if,  after  all,  life  was  worth  living. 
-  The  warm  air,  the  swish  of  water,  the 
sweet  scent  of  moist  grass  brought  upon 
him  a  feeling  of  languor ;  his  body 
asserted  itself;  —  yes,  it  was  good  to  live  ! 

"  Say,  Ike,"  said  a  voice  at  his  side, 
"  I  guess  if  you  ain't  got  any  objection, 
I'll  go  down  below  and  take  a  look 
around  the  premises."  The  man,  awak 
ened  from  his  reverie,  turned  quickly 
about  and  faced  the  intruder,  —  a  mere 
lad. 

"  Go,  if  you  want  to.  There's  noth 
ing  to  keep  you  here.  Perhaps  you  will 


THE    RETREAT   OF   THE   HUNTED. 

get  some  news  from  the  boys.  They 
ought  to  have  been  back  last  week.  — 
I'll  bet  they're  up  to  some  more  devil 
try  !  " 

He  mused  for  a  moment  and  the  boy 
moved  away.  "  And,  see  here,  Jerry, 
don't  be  in  such  a  rush.  Get  a  news 
paper,  if  you  can,  and  anything  else  in 
the  reading  line  that  they  may  happen 
to  have." 

The  boy  smiled  broadly.  "  Don't 
worry  about  news !  If  I  can't  get  a 
paper,  Lil'll  give  me  more  news  than  I'll 
be  able  to  pack  back  with  me.  She's  a 
regular  livin'  newspaper !  Folks  don't 
need  to  subscribe  for  no  paper  'round 
where  she  is  !  " 

"  That  is  true  enough,  poor  woman," 
said  the  man,  turning  once  more  to  the 
whirling  water ;  "  but  she  has  the  virtue 
of  being  good-hearted,  and  that  atones 
for  much." 

"  Even  for  her  size  ? "  queried  the  boy, 
as  he  laid  himself  down,  full-length, 
upon  the  ground  and  drank  from  the 
stream. 

7 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

"  Don't  joke !  She  can't  help  that. 
We  must  not  forget  that  she  has  be 
friended  us  more  than  once  and  may 
again,  —  though  Heaven  help  a  man  in 
so  wretched,  so  helpless  a  condition  !  " 

The  boy  muttered  something  about 
not  meaning  anything,  regained  his  feet, 
and  walked  rapidly  through  the  clump  of 
bushes,  returning  soon  with  a  little  gray 
pony.  He  passed  the  silent  man,  then 
a  half-ashamed  expression  crossed  his 
boyish  face.  He  turned  back  and  stood 
near  him,  nervously  scraping  some  loose- 
growing  moss  with  the  heel  of  his 
boot. 

"  You  won't  get  lonesome,  will  you, 
Ike  ? "  he  said  at  last,  flushing  slightly 
at  the  question.  A  certain  quality  of 
respect  and  affection  sounded  in  his  voice 
as  he  spoke  to  the  older  man,  which  was 
instantly  detected  by  him,  for  he  turned 
around  and  placed  both  hands  upon  the 
boy's  shoulders,  and  from  his  greater 
height  smiled  down  at  him. 

It  was  wonderful  how  a  smile  trans 
formed  that  dark  face  which  a  moment 


And  from  his  greater  height  smiled  down 
at  him." 


THE    RETREAT    OF    THE    HUNTED. 

before     was     almost     ugly    in     its    stern 
moodiness. 

"  Lonesome  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it !  Go, 
and  have  a  good  time ;  only  be  careful ! 
But  I  think  I  can  trust  you,  Jerry.  If 
you  see  any  of  the  boys,  and  they're  feel 
ing  anyway  gay,  don't  let  them  draw 
you  into  anything.  Understand  ?  If  you 
should  get  into  trouble,  —  if  anything 
should  happen  to  you,  I  would  indeed  be 
lonesome."  His  face  looked  serious. 
"  Now  go,  and  good  luck  to  you  !  " 

"  Don't  you  worry,  Ike  !  I  ain't  got 
no  friend  on  earth  but  you.  I  reckon  I 
ain't  going  to  do  anything  to  get  separated 
from  you.  But  if  I  did,  there  ain't  a  jail 
in  the  country  that  would  hold  me !  " 
The  boy  tossed  his  head  defiantly.  There 
was  no  trace  of  cowardice  in  him. 

"  I  don't  want  you  ever  to  be  obliged 
to  test  the  strength  of  those  institutions. 
Why,  you  are  free,  Jerry  !  As  free  as 
the  air  !  You  can  go  into  the  world  and 
be  a  man  any  time  you  wish  ;  and  per 
haps  there  will  come  a  time  when  you 
will  want  to.  I  hope  so.  Now,  don't 

9 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

get  reckless,  and  do  something  that  you 
will  be  sorry  for  all  the  rest  of  your  life. 
Let  the  other  fellow  do  it  if  he  must,  but 
you  keep  out  of  it.  You're  not  wanted 
now,  —  there  isn't  a  brand  on  you! 
Think  what  it  means  !  A  hunted,  sneak 
ing  coyote  is  less  pitiable,  for  it,  at  least, 
has  never  known  what  it  means  to  be  a 
man,  —  a  respected  —  bah!  Run  along. 
It's  getting  late,  and  you  won't  have  any 
day  at  all." 

Jerry  fumbled  nervously  with  the  stir 
rup,  and  when  he  finally  looked  up  to 
say  good-by  the  man  had  disappeared  in 
the  bushes. 


10 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE     BOY    JERRY. 


HE  boy  led  the  pony  as  far  as 
the  pass  in  the  rocky  embank 
ment,  then  he  mounted,  and 
with  cautious  swiftness  the 
small,  gray  creature  took  its  way  down 
the  gulch,  and  sometime  later  emerged 
from  the  wood-road  in  plain  sight  of 
George  Howell's  ranch. 

The  odor  of  cooking  dinner  came  to 
the  boy  before  he  reached  the  house,  and 
made  him  ravenously  hungry.  He  threw 
the  bridle  reins  to  the  ground  and  walked 
briskly  up  to  the  kitchen,  the  door  of 
which  was  open.  A  woman,  too  pon 
derous  to  be  called  fat,  stood  over  the 
cook-stove,  her  grimy,  masculine  face 
somewhat  reddened  by  the  heat.  She 
nodded  her  towsly  head  at  the  boy. 

11 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

"  Hello,  Jerry  ;   I    thought    I    saw  you 
a-comin'  up  the  road." 

"  Down  the  road,"  corrected  the  boy. 

"  Well,  you  was  up  the  road  when  I 
see  you  !  Anyway,  you're  just  in  time 
for  dinner.  Run  down  to  the  barn  and 
tell  George  it's  ready.  The  last  of  the 
sheep  left  yesterday,  an'  he's  the  only  man 
on  the  place.  It's  kind  of  lonesome 
around  here  now.  I  was  just  wishin' 
some  of  you'd  come  along  to  kind  of 
'liven  things  up.  Ain't  got  any  news, 
have  you  ?  Jim  Barnes  was  up  yesterday 
from  Tom's  place ;  he's  workin'  there 
now.  He  says  the  wolves  are  thicker'n 
ever  this  spring.  Got  into  the  corral 
down  there  and  killed  four  of  Tom's 
calves.  The  children  have  been  sick, 
too.  That's  the  worst  of  havin'  chil 
dren  ;  —  always  ailing.  Mine  are  all  out 
of  their  misery,  poor  things !  Tom's 
man  says  they're  better  now,  but  Kitty's 
most  played  out  at  takin'  care  of  them. 
I've  just  been  thinkin'  that  it's  a  good 
thing  for  her  that  Marjie's  come.  She's 
had  all  the  schoolin'  that  anyone  needs, 

12 


THE   BOY   JERRY. 


for  she  must  be  eighteen  or  nineteen  years 
old  now.  I  tell  you,  /  never  went  to 
school  that  long,  and  I  don't  see  jno  need 
of  it !  She's  been  livin'  with  her  aunt 
in  California  ever  since  she's  a  little  bit 
of  a  thing.  Her  aunt's  dead  now,  so  she 
ain't  got  anyone  left  but  her  sister  Kitty, 
so  she's  come  out  to  live  with  her.  George 
told  me  that  her  aunt  left  all  her  money 
to  her,  but  I  don't  reckon  it'll  do  her 
much  good  if  she's  goin'  to  live  out  here. 
There's  a  lot  more," — stopping  to  take 
breath,  "but  run  along,  we'll  finish  our  talk 
at  the  table.  Tell  George  to  hurry  along 
for  I'm  going  to  dish  dinner  right  up." 

The  "  talk  "  had  been  somewhat  one 
sided.  For  Jerry's  part,  he  kept  up  a 
bright  smile  which  gradually  broadened, 
until  seeing  a  chance  to  escape,  and  too 
hungry  to  run  the  risk  of  having  dinner 
postponed,  he  caught  his  pony  and  hur 
ried  down  to  the  stable. 

George  Howell  was  a  large,  finely  pro 
portioned  man  with  a  strikingly  good-look 
ing  face,  which  caused  people  to  wonder 
why  he  married  so  ungainly  a  woman. 

13 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

They  were  decidedly  an  ill-assorted  couple. 
But  the  woman  had  always  been  con 
tented,  and  the  man,  —  he  had  a  weak 
ness  for  amassing  money,  the  glitter  of 
which  had  attracted  him  in  the  choice 
of  a  wife,  who  brought  with  her  enough 
to  start  him  nicely  in  the  sheep  business. 
It  kept  his  mind  diverted  from  her,  too, 
-  the  most  of  the  time. 

They  had  been  married  many  years, 
but  he  was  only  now  in  the  prime  of  his 
life.  The  woman  had  never  been  young. 
At  any  rate,  no  one  remembered  to  have 
seen  her  look  any  different,  and  one 
would  have  to  possess  a  very  plastic  im 
agination  to  think  of  her  as  cuddled  in 
an  infant's  swaddling  clothes. 

The  plain  dinner  at  the  ranch  that 
day  seemed  like  a  feast  to  Jerry,  but  be 
fore  he  had  thoroughly  satisfied  his  hun 
ger  to  his  own  satisfaction  there  came 
an  interruption,  when  three  horseback 
riders  dismounted  at  the  door  and  tramped 
into  the  house  with  the  freedom  of  fre 
quent  visitors.  Without  formalities,  the 
woman  set  some  places  at  the  table  for 

14 


THE    BOY   JERRY. 


them  and  they  immediately  made  them 
selves  at  home. 

"Well,  Jerry,  how's  His  Royal  High 
ness  ? "  inquired  a  dark-looking  man 
whom  the  others  called  Kid,  and  who, 
from  his  forwardness,  seemed  to  be  the 
natural  leader  of  the  trio. 

"  His  Highness  's  all  right,"  replied  the 
boy  shortly,  "  or,  at  least,  he  was  when 
I  left  him  this  morning.  He's  been  won- 
derin'  why  you  fellers  haven't  come  back 
before  this.  He  was  afraid  mebbe  you'd 

J 

got  into  some  kind  of  a  scrape  or  another. 
I  told  him  I  reckoned  you  uns  knew  how 
to  look  out  for  your  hides." 

"  Much  obliged  to  him  for  his  thought- 
fulness,"  observed  the  dark  one,  as  he 
leaned  over  and  speared  a  piece  of  bread 
with  his  fork,  "but  he  don't  need  to 
worry  his  moody  old  head  about  us,  - 
hey,  boys  ?  No  harm  to  His  Highness, 
Jerry,  you  don't  need  to  get  mad  about 
it !  He's  all  right  enough,  but  he's  too 
all-fired  good  to  travel  with  us,  —  except 
when  it  comes  to  cards.  He  beats  the 
devil's  own  at  that !  ' 

15 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER   RANCH. 

"  Mighty  afraid  your  brother'll  catch 
you  gambling,  ain't  you  ? '  said  the 
woman,  without  moving  from  her  posi 
tion  in  the  window.  She  was  too  large 
to  move  with  ease,  yet  just  now  she 
seemed  inclined  to  remain  there  indef 
initely.  A  contemptuous  expression  came 
over  her  coarse  face  as  she  went  on  :  - 
"  Or  is  it  the  girl  you're  scared  of  ? 
You're  too  mighty  particular  to  live, 
George  !  But  you  ain't  so  terrible  par 
ticular  when  none  of  your  own  folks  are 
around.  Guess  you  have  an  idea  they're 
better  than  the  majority  of  people. 
Umph  ?  " 

"  Well,  perhaps  I  have,"  he  replied,  as 
he  hurriedly  placed  the  table  and  chairs 
back  into  position,  "  and  perhaps  they 
are.  Tom's  wife  is  different  from  most 
of  the  woman  out  here,  and  I  guess  this 
little  sister  must  be  something  like  her. 
I  don't  want  to  make  him  ashamed  of 
his  relations,  Lil." 

This  last  was  too  much.  Even  she 
had  a  pride,  —  of  a  certain  sort,  —  and 
just  now  it  was  touched. 

18 


THE    BOY    JERRY. 


"  Ashamed  !  Do  you  hear  that,  boys  ? 
Ashamed  !  Ha,  ha  !  He'll  be  a-wearin' 
a  stand-up  collar  next,  and  he'll  be  want- 
in'  me  to  deck  myself  out  in  high-heeled 
slippers  and  velvet  dresses,  with  my  hair 
all  frizzed  I  '  Her  great  body  shook 
and  trembled.  The  rage  in  her  heart 
evaporated  in  the  enjoyment  of  her  witti 
cism.  Her  husband  quickly  left  the 
room,  and  the  men  suppressed  their  laugh 
ter,  as  she  moved  slowly  along  the  side  of 
the  house  to  the  door  of  the  kitchen. 

George  Howell  met  his  visitors  as  they 
drew  their  horses  up  to  the  hitching- 
posts  in  front  of  the  long,  flat  ranch- 
house.  His  wife  peered  cautiously  from 
the  small  kitchen  window,  her  great 
sides  still  shaking  with  silent  laughter. 
She  drew  back  into  the  room,  making  a 
pretence  of  busying  herself  with  some 
work,  as  the  girl  walked  up  to  the  open 
door.  The  woman's  mirth  instantly  sub 
sided.  She  was  surprised  into  her  best 
manners,  which  she  never  afterward 
wholly  forgot  in  the  presence  of  this 
same  girl,  who,  hesitating  for  an  instant 

19 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

in  the  doorway,  looked  with  uncertainty 
about  the  dimly  lighted  room,  which  in 
comparison  with  the  brilliant  sunlight 
outside  appeared  almost  dark,  and  then 
with  quiet  ease  walked  up  to  the  woman 
and  extended  her  hand. 


20 


CHAPTER    III. 

MARJIE. 

>OU  are  Mrs.  Howell,  are  you 
not  ?  Your  husband  said 
that  I  would  find  you  here. 
I  am  Margaret  Navarre." 
The  woman  took  the  girl's  hand  awk 
wardly,  then  dropped  it  as  though  it  hurt 
her.  She  was  unused  to  such  civilities, 
but  she  pushed  a  chair  toward  her  guest, 
saying, — 

"  Yes,  you're  Kitty's  sister  all  right. 
I'd  have  known  that  from  the  looks  of 
you,  though  you  don't  look  anything  like 
her.  It  must  be  your  ways,  for  you're 
bigger  and  your  eyes  are  darker.  You 
look  like  you  might  be  French,  while 
Kitty's  certainly  Irish." 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  told  that  I  resemble 
my  father's  people,  while  my  sister  looks 
much  like  my  mother.  I  judge  so  from 

21 


MARJIE  OF  THE  LOWER  RANCH. 


a  picture,  for  I  do  not  remember  my 
mother.  She  died  when  I  was  a  baby." 
The  girl's  dark  eyes  swept  the  room. 
"  Who  is  this  ? "  she  asked,  for  the  first 
time  perceiving  Jerry  who  was  watching 
for  an  opportunity  to  leave  the  house  un 
observed. 

"  That's  Jerry," answered  Mrs.  Howell. 
Then,  by  way  of  explanation,  —  "He 
belongs  to  a  prospecting  party  up  in  the 
mountains.  We're  pretty  good  friends, 
an*  he  comes  down  here  once  in  a  while 
to  visit  a  little." 

"  Oh,  you  are  a  miner  !  I'm  very  glad 
to  meet  you,  Mr.  Jerry,"  said  the  girl 
with  a  sweet  freedom  of  manner  that  took 
by  storm  the  boy's  heart,  and  made  him 
her  willing  slave. 

That  was  the  first  of  their  great  friend 
ship. 

Then  came  many  questions  about 
miners,  their  manner  of  living,  and  how 
they  worked,  which  Jerry,  though  at  first 
ill  at  ease,  managed  to  answer  satisfacto 
rily,  for  he  had,  in  truth,  lived  in  the 
wilds  all  of  his  life,  ranging  from  Mexico 

22 


MARJIE. 

to  the  Canadian  border,  and  there  was 
nothing  in  the  life  of  that  vast  unbroken 
country  that  he  did  not  understand  some 
thing  about.  Many  times  he  and  Ike 
had  taken  their  pans,  and  far  up  in  the 
mountains  where  some  tiny  stream  flowed 
over  the  bed-rock,  they  would  wash  out 
the  dirt.  From  sunrise  until  darkness 
hid  from  their  sight  the  bit  of  yellow 
gold  in  the  bottom  of  the  pan,  they  would 
work.  Sometimes  they  would  carry  away 
with  them  several  dollars'  worth  of  gold- 
dust,  or,  occasionally,  a  bag  of  nuggets,  as 
the  case  might  be. 

He  and  Ike  were  miners.  He  had 
never  thought  of  it  before,  but  somehow 
it  sounded  good  from  the  lips  of  that 
girl.  He  felt  glad  to  know  that,  in 
reality,  they  had  earned  the  name.  Then 
he  fell  to  wondering  what  she  would 
think  if  she  knew  what  the  world  called 
them.  If  only  Ike  were  free  —  they 
would  earn  the  right  to  a  better  sounding 
title.  It  had  never  occurred  to  him  so 
vividly  before  to  be  ashamed  of  the 
name,  —  the  life.  His  father  had  been 

23 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 


a  wanderer,  had  died  a  wanderer,  and  the 
boy  loved  the  life  that  he  had  always 
known,  and  felt  nothing  but  antagonism 
toward  his  enemy,  the  civilized  world. 
That  it  held  so  dainty  a  maiden  had 
never  entered  his  head.  That  was  one  of 
the  things  that  Ike  had  failed  to  teach 
him.  He  wished  that  his  friend  had 
been  there  to  see  her.  At  any  rate,  he 
would  have  something  to  tell  him  when 
he  returned. 

The  three  men,  despairing  of  a  better 
sight  of  the  "new  girl,"  and  lacking  the 
boldness  to  enter  the  kitchen,  left  the 
house  by  a  back  door,  and  after  talking  a 
few  minutes  with  the  two  brothers, 
caught  their  horses,  which,  still  saddled, 
were  grazing  at  their  own  free  will  not 
far  from  where  their  bridle  reins  had 
been  hastily  dropped  to  the  ground.  With 
a  last  look  at  the  kitchen  end  of  the 
house,  they  rode  away.  Jerry  saw  them 
as  they  left,  and  a  refinement,  until  then 
foreign  to  his  nature,  made  him  glad  that 
the  girl  had  not  seen  them. 

They  were  rough  fellows,  —  the  two 

24 


MARJIE. 

Cory  boys,  Kid  and  Hank,  and  their 
Irish  friend,  Tim  Brady.  Since  this  last 
trip  they  looked  their  calling,  perhaps 
more  so  than  usual,  and  Jerry,  for  the 
first  time,  felt  heartily  ashamed  of  them. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  woman,  in  answer  to 
a  question  from  the  girl,  "  we  have  quite 
a  few  travelers  along  here.  There's  a  lot 
of  hunters  and  prospecters  scattered  over 
these  mountains,  and  most  of  them  put 
up  here  when  they  come  along." 

"  I  suppose  you  know  all  of  them," 
went  on  the  girl,  to  whom  every  impres 
sion  was  new  and,  as  a  rule,  pleasant. 
Even  in  the  things  that  otherwise  would 
have  been  shocking,  she  found  a  charm. 
Her  keen  sense  of  humor  never  failed. 
It  was  the  blood  of  her  fathers,  the  best 
mixture  of  French  and  Irish,  that  told  in 
her  make-up,  that  gave  the  charm  to  her 
eye,  the  wit  to  her  tongue,  the  grace  to 
her  figure,  and  the  weakness  and  strength 
to  her  nature.  It  gave  her  a  physical 
perfection  that  cannot  be  described,  em 
bodying,  as  it  did,  all  the  graces  from  a 
hundred  generations  of  beautiful  women. 

25 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER   RANCH. 

It  is  enough  to  call  her  beautiful,  but  that 
which  won  the  greatest  admiration  was 
the  compelling  charm  of  her  character, 
which,  by  her  environment  in  a  strange 
country  and  under  the  most  trying  cir 
cumstances,  was  gradually  developed. 

The  woman  was  watching  her  admir 
ingly,  and  had  changed  her  position  to 
where  she  could  get  a  better  view  of  the 
girl's  face.  She  was  wondering  if  this 
new  relative  of  her  husband's  was  not 
prettier  than  the  painted  actress  who  had 
so  taken  her  fancy  in  town  that  winter. 
Jerry  thought  it  strange  that  the  woman 
could  be  quiet  for  so  long  a  time.  Then 
the  girl  spoke  again  :  - 

"  Are  there  many  girls  of  my  age  in 
the  country  ?" 

"  Land,  no  !  "  exclaimed  the  woman, 
waking  up.  "  They  all  get  married  be 
fore  they're  your  age  !  >: 

"That's  a  new  idea,"  laughed  the 
girl.  "  Then  according  to  the  standards 
out  here,  I  must  be  quite  an  old  maid  !  " 

"  There's  so  many  more  men  out  here 
than  there's  girls ;  that's  the  reason,  I 

26 


MARJIE. 

reckon.  They'll  all  be  settin'  their  caps 
for  you  as  soon  as  they  clap  eyes  on  you. 
You  won't  have  no  trouble  to  get  mar 
ried,"  said  the  woman,  assuringly. 

The  girl  had  been  seated ;  at  this  she 
rose  to  her  feet,  and  a  look  not  quite 
pleasant  came  to  her  eyes.  Hasty  words 
trembled  upon  her  tongue,  but  she  closed 
her  lips  firmly. 

The  woman  grew  nervous  waiting  for 
her  to  speak,  and  Jerry  felt  his  face  flush 
that  such  a  thing  should  have  been  said 
to  her.  Finally  her  eyes  softened ;  she 
resumed  her  chair  and  spoke  in  a  low 
tone  :  —  "  This  is  a  magnificent  country, 
up  here  in  the  mountains,  much  more 
beautiful  than  the  plains  below  where 
Kitty  lives.  Even  the  air  is  different, 
and  the  water  seems  clearer ;  —  the 
trees  and  the  flowers,  the  hills  and  little 
valleys.  It  is  grand  !  Glorious  !  Doesn't 
it  make  you  happy,  every  moment,  to 
be  alive  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  answered  the 
woman  doubtfully.  Truly  this  girl  was 
beyond  her  comprehension.  The  few 

27 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

young  women  that  she  had  known  would 
not  have  been  displeased  with  the  mere 
suggestion  that  she  had  made ;  quite  to 
the  contrary.  A  girl  was  a  strange  creat 
ure  not  to  be  interested  in  marriage  !  — 
all  there  is  in  life. 

The  girl  turned  to  the  boy  and  was 
laughing  softly.  After  she  had  thought 
it  over,  it  seemed  to  her  a  very  good 
joke  ;  at  first  upon  herself,  now  she  rather 
enjoyed  the  woman's  discomfort.  Jerry 
was  quick  to  understand  her,  and  she  felt 
pleased  in  the  knowledge  that  he  did  so. 

"Are  you  going  to  stay  here  long?" 
asked  the  boy  presently. 

"  Not  this  time,"  she  answered.  "  We 
are  going  home  to-day,  but  I  intend  to 
come  again,  often,  now  that  I  have 
learned  the  way,  and  I  hope  to  see  you 
many  times  this  summer.  Some  time  I 
am  going  up  in  the  mountains  to  your 
camp,  for  I  am  anxious  to  see  how  min 
ers  live."  At  this  the  boy  flushed,  and 
Margaret  wondered  why  he  should  have 
been  so  confused.  She  thought  of  it 
afterward. 

28 


MARJIE. 

"  I'd  better  be  gettin'  supper  if  you  and 
Tom  are  goin'  back  this  evenin',  but  I 
don't  see  why  you're  in  such  a  hurry  to 
go,"  said  Mrs.  Howell,  as  she  bustled 
about.  "  My  goodness,  it's  most  supper 
time  now !  Those  men're  out  there 
talkin'  yet !  You'd  think  they  never  saw 
each  other  more'n  once  in  twenty  years." 

"  I  reckon  I'd  better  be  going,  or  Ike 
'11  think  I'm  lost  for  sure,"  said  Jerry,  as 
he  reached  over  and  took  his  hat  from 
the  wood-box.  Then  without  another 
word,  he  walked  with  long  strides  out  of 
the  house.  He  returned  almost  instantly. 

"  I  about  forgot  that  Ike  wanted  some 
thing  to  read,"  he  said,  ashamed  to  have 
forgotten  his  friend  so  completely. 

"  I  ain't  got  a  thing  in  the  house  but 
this  newspaper,"  said  the  woman,  pro 
ducing  it.  "  Tom's  man  brought  it  up 
yesterday,  so  it  ain't  very  old.  I  had  it 
over  the  bread  in  the  oven  so  it's  kind  of 
brown,  but  I  guess  it'll  do  His  Highness." 

"  Who  is  His  Highness  ?  "  asked  the 
girl  quickly. 

"  That's    Ike,  my  partner,"   explained 

29 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

the  boy,  before  Mrs.  Howell  could  say 
anything.  Then  carefully  folding  the 
scorched  paper,  he  added,  "  He's  my 
friend." 

His  tone  conveyed  much,  and  Marjie 
liked  him  at  that  moment  better  than 
she  had  before.  He  said  good-by  to  her 
with  bashful  awkwardness,  and  she  stood 
in  the  door  and  watched  him  until  the 
little  gray  pony  had  taken  him  out  of 
sight. 


30 


CHAPTER    IV. 

A    NEW    PHASE    OF    LIFE. 

T  seemed  an  unconscionably 
short  time  to  Jerry  when  he 
suddenly  awakened  and  found 
that  he  had  reached  the  en 
trance  of  the  Retreat,  so  busy  was  he 
with  new  thoughts,  —  the  sweet  begin 
ning  of  an  almost  new  existence. 

It  was  not  strange  that  the  friendship 
of  a  girl  like  Margaret  Navarre  brought 
a  sweetness  into  the  boy's  barren  life  that 
seemed  to  him  like  Heaven.  Many 
gorged  with  all  the  blessings  and  benefits 
of  modern  civilization  might  well  have 
envied  him,  —  not  only  for  the  promise 
of  the  girl's  friendship,  but  for  the 
strange,  satisfied  happiness  that  it  brought 
him.  A  rare  feeling,  to  be  sure  ! 

Jerry  dismounted  just  outside  the  gap  of 
rocks.  Instinctively  he  looked  around 
for  Ike,  but  no  one  was  in  sight.  The 

31 


MARJIE    OF   THE   LOWER   RANCH. 

pony  whinnied  softly  for  water,  and  the 
boy  stepped  to  one  side,  making  room  for 
it  to  reach  the  stream,  as  he  mused : 
"  Pretty  little  Lady,  I  guess  you  think 
I'm  a  dandy  to  let  you  go  all  this  time 
without  water,  but  I  clean  forgot  you  !  " 
He  gently  rubbed  its  soft,  sleek  coat. 
"  You  don't  need  to  think  I'm  goin'  to  do 
it  again  very  soon,  but  it  ain't  every  day 
a  fellow  meets  a  real  lady.  Now,  drink 
all  you  want  to,  but  hurry  up  about  it  for 
we  want  to  find  Ike.  My,  but  we've 
got  a  lot  to  tell  him  to-day  !  " 

When  the  boy  and  the  gentle  Lady 
reached  the  cabin,  not  a  sound  could  be 
heard,  but  the  boy's  quick  eyes  saw  the 
faint  track  of  men's  feet  about  the  door, 
and  the  horse  pricked  up  its  ears  and 
looked  suspiciously  toward  a  clump  of 
brush  at  the  left. 

"  Horses,"  said  the  boy  under  his 
breath,  "  I  reckon  it's  the  boys." 

There  were  two  rooms  in  the  little 
cabin,  or  rather,  two  small  cabins  built 
together  with  a  doorway  cut  between. 
The  structure  was  built  of  small,  unhewn 

32 


A    NEW   PHASE    OF    LIFE. 

fir  logs,  and  the  cracks  were  daubed  with 
mud.  The  weeds  and  grass  growing 
thickly  upon  the  low,  dirt  roof  gave  to 
the  whole  undeniable  evidence  of  age. 

Jerry  peered  cautiously  into  the  first 
room  through  a  hole  in  the  chinking 
used  for  that  purpose.  No  one  was  in 
sight,  but  protruding  from  a  bunk  in  the 
farther  room,  he  saw  what  he  immediately 
recognized  as  one  of  Hank  Cory's  high- 
heeled  boots.  Then  he  emitted  a  soft 
bird-like  whistle,  the  one  that  Ike  had 
taught  him  during  the  long  months  of 
their  first  winter  together.  No  one 
could  imitate  it,  and  they  felt  that  they 
possessed  one  thing  in  common  which 
could  never  be  taken  away  from  them. 
It  was  a  very  useful  possession,  too,  in 
that  uncertain  existence.  Jerry  repeated 
his  whistle  several  times,  but  no  answer 
rewarded  him.  Ike  was  away,  that  was 
evident.  Leaving  his  pony,  he  stealthily 
made  his  way  around  to  the  other  part  of 
the  house,  and  with  great  caution  peered 
into  the  other  room  through  another 
peep-hole  like  the  first.  The  three  men 

33 


MARJIE  OF  THE  LOWER  RANCH. 

lay  stretched  out  on  the  bunks,  sound 
asleep.  Even  Jerry's  noisy  entrance  into 
the  room  failed  to  waken  them. 

The  boy  was  no  coward,  but  he  was 
cautious.  It  was  necessary  that  he  should 
be.  That  was  one  of  the  things  Ike  had 
taught  him,  that  their  comradeship  de 
manded. 

After  a  fruitless  search  about  the  prem 
ises  for  his  friend,  and  casting  a  look  of 
superior  contempt  upon  the  sleeping  men, 
he  mounted  his  pony  and  started  for  the 
Find,  as  he  called  it,  where  he  felt  cer 
tain  Ike  was  at  work.  Some  distance 
farther  up  in  the  mountains,  among  rocks 
so  steep  and  jagged  that  he  was  obliged 
to  walk  and  lead  his  horse,  he  gave  the 
signal.  The  answer  came  like  an  echo 
to  his  own,  and  not  far  distant  the  man 
came  in  sight. 

"  I  was  just  about  to  quit  work  and  go 
home,"  he  said,  as  he  lightly  swung  him 
self  by  some  scrubby  trees  down  a  rocky 
bank.  "  How's  this  for  an  afternoon's 
work?" 

The  boy  opened   his   eyes  wide  at  the 

34 


A   NEW    PHASE   OF    LIFE. 

sight  of  an  unusual  amount  of  gold  stored 
away  in  the  little  glass  vial.  "  My,  but 
there  must  be  four  or  five  dollars'  worth 
of  gold  there !  I  wish  I'd  stayed  and 
helped  you.  No,  I  don't  !  I  wasn't 
thinkin'.  Say,  you  just  ought  to  'a'seen 
her  !  I  don't  believe  there  was  any  one 
like  her  before,  an'  I  can't  tell  you  just 
what  she  looked  like,  for  she  didn't  look 
alike  any  two  times,  an'  I  sat  there  an' 
watched  her  for  a  plumb  hour,  but  she's 
the  prettiest"  — 

"  If  you'll  tell  me  what  you  are  talking 
about,"  interrupted  the  man,  "  whether 
it's  a  horse,  a  cotton-tail  rabbit,  or  an 
apple,  I  may  be  able  to  enter  into  your 
enthusiasm  a  little  better." 

"  A  girl !  It's  a  girl,  Ike  !  Not  one 
of  these  here  sorts  you  see  sometimes,  — 
but  a  girl,  —  a  different  —  well,  I  can't 
tell  you  anything  about  her  !  I  thought 
I  could,  but  I  can't.  Wait  till  you  see 
her  ! " 

The  man's  face  was  a  study.  He  was 
making  an  earnest  effort  to  appear  serious, 
but  mirth  gained  the  mastery,  and  he 

36 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

laughed  until  the  rocks  rang  in  echo.  It 
was  such  an  extraordinary  thing  that  this 
man,  who  rarely  smiled,  should  laugh  so 
heartily,  that  Jerry,  though  knowing  that 
the  laughter  was  at  his  expense,  could  not 
refrain  from  joining  with  him.  To  the 
man  it  was  a  brief  forgetfulness  of  his 
plight,  the  bitterness  of  which  ten  long 
years  had  failed  to  efface  from  his  mem 
ory.  The  two  became  silent  and  walked 
on,  the  boy  leading  his  pony,  for  the  man 
was  afoot.  The  man  was  the  first  to 
speak. 

"  Well,  any  news  ?  Or  have  thoughts 
of  this  wronderful  girl  absorbed  all  else 
from  your  mind?" 

"  She's  the  most  of  the  news,  herself," 
answered  the  boy,  with  a  smile.  "  But, 
then,  there's  more.  The  boys  are  back, 
and  I've  got  a  newspaper  for  you.  Lil 
said  that  it  was  a  late  one,  but  it's  pretty 
well  cooked."  He  took  it  from  his 
pocket  and  handed  it  to  his  friend. 
"  Better  be  careful,  or  it'll  break." 

"  It  is  rather  well  done,"  remarked  the 
man,  as  he  tucked  it  carefully  inside  his 

36 


A   NEW   PHASE    OF    LIFE. 

shirt.  The  day  had  been  warm,  and  he 
wore  no  coat.  "  It  would  require  a 
different  kind  of  a  roasting  than  that  to 
improve  the  paper,  but  it's  better  than 
none.  So  the  boys  are  back.  How  are 
they  feeling  ? " 

"They  were  sleeping  it  off  when  I 
come  up  here  to  find  you.  I  guess  from 
the  looks  of  'em  that  they've  been  havin' 
a  pretty  gay  time  in  town.  Kid,  he's 
flush  with  money,  an'  he  don't  care  who 
knows  it." 

"  A  natural  sequence,"  said  the  man, 
with  some  bitterness.  "  You  and  I  would 
be  some  happier  when  we  got  home  if 
that  gang  were  not  lying  around  drunk. 
Isn't  that  so  ?  But  it  is  the  inevitable 
accompaniment  to  the  rest  of  our  mis 
fortunes.  But  what  matters  that,  —  or 
anything?  We  will  try  to  find  consola 
tion  in  each  other.  It's  all  we  can  do, 
and  it's  something.  I  try  to  thank  my 
stars  every  day  that  I  have  you.  Let's 
see,  it  is  five  years  next  month  since 
your  father  died  and  left  you  to  my  care. 
What  a  legacy  for  a  boy  !  " 

37 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

Jerry  looked  up  reproachfully. 

"  It's  better  than  I  ever  had  before, 
and  I  guess  father  thought  he  had  struck 
a  gold  mine  for  me  when  you  told  him 
you'd  take  care  of  me.  I  never  would 
V  known  anything  at  all  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  you.  But  the  girl,  Ike,  —  you  just 
ought  to  'a'  seen  her  ! >] 

"Yes,  tell  me  about  her,"  Ike  said 
suddenly,  as  though  for  the  first  time  he 
had  felt  an  interest  in  the  newcomer. 

"  She  ain't  nothing  short  of  a  real 
angel,  if  there  ever  was  one  !  "  making  a 
bold  plunge.  "  I  was  wishing  all  the 
time  that  you  had  gone  along,  so's  you 
could  have  seen  her.  I  think  her  eyes 
are  black,  or  brown,  —  or  else  a  dark 
blue.  I'm  not  sure  which." 

"Bewitching  maiden!"  said  the  man. 
"  But  since  I  am  doomed  to  exist  outside 
the  pale  of  so  fair  a  creature,  you  might 
tell  me  who  she  is  and  where  she 
belongs." 

"  Why,  she's  that  girl  from  California, 
—  Tom  Howell's  sister-in-law.  Her 
name's  Margaret,  —  Margaret  Navarre. 


A    NEW    PHASE   OF   LIFE. 

Tom  calls  her  Marjie.  She's  come  out 
here  to  live  with  her  sister,  you  know. 
Tom  brought  her  up  from  his  place  this 
afternoon,  and  they're  going  back  this 
evening.  They  must  be  on  their  way 
home  by  now."  Then,  at  last,  the  boy 
found  language  to  express  to  his  friend 
some  of  the  charms  of  Marjie,  —  how 
she  looked  and  what  she  said.  He 
opened  his  heart  in  a  long  and  many- 
worded  recital  which  lasted  until  they 
reached  the  Retreat.  In  spite  of  the 
unpleasantness  that  awaited  them  at  the 
cabin,  a  feeling  of  great  contentment  and 
perfect  harmony  enveloped  them,  until  a 
quiet  smile  illumed  the  man's  face,  and 
from  the  throat  of  the  boy  burst  forth  a 
song.  What  caused  it  ? 

Was  it  the  magnificent  twilight,  the 
last  leave-taking  of  the  sun,  that  in  ten 
derness  clothed  every  peak  and  mountain- 
top  with  its  own  red-gold, -- or  was  it 
the  girl  ? 


39 


CHAPTER    V. 

BANISHMENT     OF     THE      ROUGH     ELEMENT 
FROM      THE      RETREAT. 

>HE   interior   of  the    cabin   was 
not  unlike  that  of  many  others 

J 

in  the  country.  The  uncov 
ered  log  walls  emphasized  the 
barrenness  of  the  two  rooms,  whose  only 
furniture  consisted  of  a  few  boxes  which 
served  as  chairs,  some  home-made  bunks, 
a  sort  of  mess-box  and  table,  and  a  small 
camp  stove. 

As  Ike  entered  the  cabin,  he  flung  one 
swift  glance  about  him,  noting  with  im 
patience  the  three  men  deep  in  their  long- 
delayed  sleep.  It  was  but  the  work  of  a 
moment  to  build  a  fire  in  the  small  stove, 
and  by  the  time  Jerry  had  taken  care  of 
his  pony  and  tramped  into  the  house,  the 
kettle  was  singing  merrily  and  the  meager 
supper  was  nearly  prepared. 

40 


BANISHMENT  OF  ROUGH  ELEMENT. 

"  I'll  just  go  and  call  them  easy,"  said 
Jerry,  "  and  if  they  don't  want  to  get  up, 
why,  we'll  eat  in  peace." 

"  An'  is  it  callin'  us  aisy  loike,  you'd  be 
after  doin'  ?  And  me  that  hungry  I  could 
eat  me  hat !  "  demanded  the  Irishman,  as 
he  raised  himself  to  the  edge  of  the  bunk, 
where  he  sat  poised  for  a  moment,  yawning 
and  stretching  his  long  arms  up  over  his 
head.  "  Here,  you  lazy  lumpkins  !  "  he 
continued,  as  he  stood  upon  one  foot  and 
gave  the  nearest  man  a  forcible  kick, 
"  would  yez  be  slapin'  forever  while  da- 
cent  folks  be  waitin'  upon  ye  ? " 

"You  go  straight  to  Hell!"  growled 
Hank  Cory,  "  if  you  ain't  too  blamed 
cussed  to  get  there  !  " 

"  Sure,  it's  yerself  that'll  be  pilotin'  me 
there  one  o'  these  foine  days,  me  boy  ! 
But  there'll  be  little  supper  awaitin'  us  at 
the  end  of  our  route,  I'm  thinkin',  so  ye'd 
better  get  up  and  partake  of  what's  set 
before  yez  while  there's  loife  in  yer  body 
an'  an  inclination  to  eat." 

"  What's  that  you  fellers  are  preachin' 
about?"  said  a  voice  from  the  farther 

41 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

bunk.  Then  Kid  Cory,  wide  awake, 
jumped  to  his  feet,  and  with  an  ominous 
glare  in  his  black  eyes,  drew  his  gun  upon 
the  others.  His  brother  Hank,  a  natural 
coward,  crouched  back  upon  the  bed. 

"  I  ain't  done  nothin',  Kid,"  he  whim 
pered.  "  Put  up  your  gun." 

The  Irishman  scratched  his  head  and 
looked  into  the  other  room,  as  if  to  seek 
protection  there. 

"  Go  outside  if  you  want  to  practice 
target  shooting,"  said  Ike  in  a  quiet  voice, 
as  he  stepped  into  the  room  and  faced  the 
upraised  gun.  Then  the  wild  light  died 
out  of  Kid's  eyes ;  his  hand  dropped  to 
his  side,  and  as  he  put  his  six-shooter  in 
his  belt,  he  said  in  a  subdued  voice  but 
without  apology,  "  Supper  most  ready  ? ' 

The  warm  meal  cleared  the  brains  of 
the  three  men  and  loosened  their  tongues  ; 
though,  to  be  sure,  that  was  the  perpet 
ual  condition  of  the  Irishman's.  Tim 
vied  with  the  woman,  Lil,  in  conversa 
tional  accomplishment,  but  it  is  a  strange 
fact  that  when  the  two  were  together, 
neither  one  had  much  to  say.  Perhaps 

42 


BANISHMENT    OF    ROUGH    ELEMENT. 

they  were  afraid  to  begin.  But  there 
was  nothing  the  matter  with  Tim's  flow 
of  speech  this  particular  night  as  the  men 
sat  around  the  rough  table.  He  acted  as 
mouthpiece  for  the  others,  and  described 
at  length  some  of  their  experiences  since 
leaving  the  camp.  They  had  visited  a 
small  town  many  miles  away,  and  great 
and  varied  had  been  their  adventures. 
"  But  the  worst  of  it  was,"  he  concluded, 
"  we  didn't  get  to  see  the  new  girl, —  but 
as  far  as  I  could  see  she  was  as  pretty  a 
morsel  as  ever  I  laid  me  eye  on  !  " 

By  the  dim  light  of  the  one  small 
lamp  Ike  proceeded  with  some  difficulty 
to  read  the  scorched  newspaper  that  Jerry 
had  brought  from  the  ranch.  He  paid 
small  heed  to  the  talk  of  the  three  men, 
whose  conversation  was  growing  more 
general  and  more  unrefined.  The  boy 
listened  to  their  chatter,  but  occasion 
ally  the  vision  of  a  sweet  girlish  face  rose 
before  him, —  the  room  faded, —  the  men 
seemed  indistinct  and  their  voices  a  long 
way  off.  He  almost  believed  that  he 
had  been  asleep.  But  he  awoke  suddenly 

43 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

from  his  dream  with  the  feeling  that 
something  was  wrong.  Ike  had  thrown 
his  paper  upon  the  table,  and  with  im 
patient  eyes  watched  the  movements  of 
Kid  who  walked  restlessly  up  and  down 
the  room  and  at  length  halted  directly  be 
fore  him,  saying  with  some  insolence  :  — 

"  You,  with  your  devil's  luck  at  cards, 
why  didn't  you  go  to  town  with  us  ? 
You'd  'a'  made  more  money  than  you 
would  in  a  year  breakin'  your  back  over 
that  there  gold  dust.  But  the  luck's 
mine  now,  I  tell  you  !  The  luck's  mine  ! 
Do  you  hear  ?  I  won  everything  I  run 
up  against  in  town,  an'  I'll  play  you,  for 
all  the  dust  you've  got ! " 

"  If  you  win,"  asked  the  man  quietly, 
"  how  about  our  winter's  supply  of  grub  ?  " 

"  Winter  ?  "  answered  Kid,  "  who's 
thinkin'  about  winter  this  time  of  the  year  ? 
We  may  all  be  in  Kingdom  Come  by 
that  time  !  I  reckon  you're  afraid  to  play 
with  me,  ain't  you  ?  Here,"  he  cried, 
pulling  out  a  large  roll  of  bills,  "just  put 
up  your  gold  dust  ag'in'  that !  " 

The    man     looked     at     him     sharply. 

44 


BANISHMENT   OF    ROUGH    ELEMENT. 

"  How  did  you  come  by  that  ?  Hon 
estly  ? " 

"  Cards,"  answered  Kid,  to  which  the 
others  affirmed. 

"  If  you  won  it  fair  and  square,"  the 
man  observed,  "  I  don't  mind  playing 
with  you.  But  I  don't  want  dirt  money, 
for  I'm  certainly  going  to  win  if  I  play. 
You'd  better  think  it  over." 

Kid  fought  with  almost  inarticulate 
oaths  that  came  from  his  throat  in  a  low, 
rasping  sound.  He  was  fast  becoming 
excited.  "  I  tell  you  my  luck's  changed  ! 
Put  up  your  money  if  you  ain't  a  white- 
livered  coward  !  >J 

At  this  there  came  a  look  in  the  man's 
face  that  portended  a  storm,  but  only  the 
boy  saw  it,  as  he  noticed  everything  that 
concerned  his  friend.  The  table  was 
cleared,  and  the  two  men  began  their 
game  of  poker,  while  the  others  drew 
near  and  watched  them  breathlessly.  Ike 
played  with  ease,  seemingly  unconcerned 
as  to  whether  he  lost  or  won.  His  tran 
quillity  exasperated  Kid,  who  grew  mo 
mentarily  more  excited,  and  then  he  lost, 

45 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

hand  after  hand,  until  nothing  remained 
of  his  large  roll  but  one  bill.  That  he 
staked  and  lost,  then  with  an  oath  he 
sprang  to  his  feet  and  drew  his  gun.  If 
his  action  was  quick,  Ike  was  quicker, 
and  the  fire  that  had  smothered  so  long 
burst  forth  at  last,  as  with  one  stroke  of 
his  strong  arm  the  gun  went  flying  half 
way  across  the  room,  and  before  the  other 
men  had  time  to  realize  what  was  going 
on,  he  had  taken  the  outlaw  by  the  col 
lar  and  was  shaking  him  as  though  he 
had  been  a  dog.  Kid's  face  turned  white, 
and  he  said  not  a  word ;  indeed,  he  had 
no  opportunity  to  do  so.  His  brother 
Hank  was  about  to  interfere,  when  Jerry 
quickly  picked  up  the  gun  from  the  floor 
and  remarked  :  - 

"You  just  keep  out  of  that  or  I'll  give 
you  a  taste  of  this  !  Stand  there  in  the 
corner,  or  Ike'll  finish  you  when  he  gets 
through  with  Kid  !  " 

"  Sure,  an'  the  boy  is  right !  Now 
don't  that  look  for  all  the  world  loike  a 
cat  shakin'  a  poor  little  mouse  ?  By  tho 
Holy  Smoke,  I  wouldn't  wonder  if  His 

46 


BANISHMENT    OF    ROUGH    ELEMENT. 


Highness  was  takin'  him  down  to  the  creek 
to  give  him  a  bath  !  A  bit  of  a  washin' 
won't  hurt  him  anyways."  The  Irish 
man  made  many  remarks  befitting  the 
occasion,  and  with  him  Jerry  had  no 
trouble,  and  but  little  with  the  other  man 
whose  noble  intentions  toward  his  brother 
were  fast  giving  way  before  his  own  cow 
ardice,  so  that  he  was  glad  to  remain  in 
the  shelter  of  the  cabin. 

The  sound  of  receding  footsteps 
brought  upon  Jerry  the  conviction  that 
His  Highness's  thread  of  patience  had 
snapped,  and  that  this  was  the  last  of  the 
undesired  element  in  the  Retreat.  "  You'd 
better  get  up  your  horses  and  follow  Kid, 
unless  you  want  Ike  to  come  after  you. 
He's  powerful  strong,"  observed  the  boy. 

After  considering  for  a  moment,  Hank 
acted  on  this  suggestion  and  marched  out 
into  the  night.  Ike  had  forcibly  walked 
the  outlaw  to  the  entrance  of  the  Retreat. 
With  his  hand  still  grasping  his  collar,  he 
spoke  for  the  first  time  :  — 

"  I've  befriended  you  for  five  years,  you 
miserable  wretch, —  but  this  ends  it  !  " 

47 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

Then  putting  the  roll  of  money  into  the 
pocket  of  the  now  thoroughly  terrified 
man,  he  went  on  slowly, —  "  I've  done 
with  the  three  of  you.  If  you  ever  set 
foot  inside  this  place  again  you  won't  get 
off  so  easily  !  " 

The  fellow  muttered  something  unin 
telligible,  turned  about,  and  slowly  walked 
away.  Ike  watched  him  until  he  was 
lost  in  the  shadows  of  the  night,  then  he 
leaned  against  one  of  the  boulders  and 
waited.  He  must  have  forseen  that 
Hank  would  follow  his  brother,  and  he  did 
not  have  long  to  wait  until  the  man,  lead 
ing  a  horse,  rode  slowly  up  and  stopped 
some  distance  from  where  the  bright 
moon  revealed  His  Highness's  dark  figure 
waiting  patiently  beside  the  rocks. 

"  You  ain't  got  no  call  to  treat  Kid 
like  that,  but  bein'  as  you  have,  I'll  take 
his  horse  to  him,  that  is" —  he  added 
nervously  as  no  answer  came  to  him,  "  if 
you  ain't  got  no  objection." 

"  You've  saved  me  the  trouble  to  ask 
you  to  leave,"  said  the  man  beside  the 
stream,  "  in  other  words,  to  clear  out.  I 

48 


BANISHMENT   OF   ROUGH    ELEMENT. 

have  to-night  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  a  quieter  life  will  be  better  for  me, — 
and  for  the  rest  of  you.  From  now  on  I 
claim  absolute  right  to  this  place,  and 
anyone  that  tries  to  interfere  with  my 
privacy  will  endanger  his  health.  Under 
stand  ?  Your  brother  will  be  able  to  ex 
plain  the  details  a  trifle  more  clearly.  I 
will  tell  Tim  that  you  are  anxious  for  his 
company.  Good-evening  ! " 

Hank  rode  forward  slowly.  After  he 
passed  the  man,  he  stopped  his  horse  and 
turned  about  in  the  saddle. 

"  You  ain't  agoin'  to  shoot,  be  you  ? " 
he  asked,  then  continued  in  a  whining 
tone,  "  you  know  I  ain't  done  anything 
to  you,  an'  I  ain't  responsible  fur  what 
Kid  does.  I  know  he  didn't  have  no 
right  to  draw  his  gun  on  you,  for  you 
played  square.  There  ain't  another  hidin' 
place  as  good  as  this  in  the  country  !  You 
don't  mean  to  turn  us  out,  do  you  ?  I'm 
sorry  "  — 

"  Just  move  on,  please,"  interrupted 
the  man.  "  You  will  find  your  brother 
somewhere  down  the  gulch.  I  have 

49 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

nothing  against  you,  and  I  will  help  any 
of  you  in  any  way  except  this.  I  want 
this  place  to  myself.  Don't  misunder 
stand  me,  and  don't  waste  any  more 
words.  Now  go  !  " 

Every  word  was  short,  crisp,  and  delib 
erate.  There  was  no  mistaking  the  mean 
ing.  Hank  turned  back  in  his  saddle  and 
slowly  made  off,  overtaking  his  brother  a 
few  rods  farther  on. 

In  the  silence  of  the  Retreat  His 
Highness  listened  to  the  sound  of  hoofs 
as  the  horses  trotted  over  loose  stones,  or 
splashed  through  the  water,  then  knowing 
that  the  two  men  would  rest  well  in  How- 
ell's  bunk-house  that  night,  he  walked 
slowly  back  to  his  own  little  cabin. 

It  required  some  trouble  and  a  great 
amount  of  talk  to  convince  the  Irishman 
that  he  must  follow  them.  But  finally 
these  two,  the  man  and  the  boy  who  had 
so  longed  for  this  very  thing,  were  left 
alone  in  their  Retreat,  and  the  man,  at 
least,  realized  that  his  act  had  been  a  rash 
one,  and  that  this  was  but  the  beginning 
—  of  what  ? 

60 


CHAPTER    VI. 

A    CASE    WHERE    WIT     CONQUERS 
OBSTINACY. 

^ARJIE  sat  on  a  low  bench  be 
neath  an  open  window.  The 
early  morning  was  sultry  and 
warm,  giving  promise  of  an 
uncomfortable  day,  —  a  day  seemingly  out 
of  place  in  early  June.  The  girl  looked 
almost  wistfully  across  the  stretch  of 
prairie  to  where  the  snow-drifts  still 
un melted  streaked  the  sides  of  the  dis 
tant  mountain  tops.  A  pair  of  soft  arms 
from  the  window  above  reached  down 
and  clasped  her  about  the  neck,  drawing 
her  face  upward. 

"  Ah,  my  Marjie,  go  over  there  where 
your  eyes  are  leading  you  and  get  me  a 
nice,  big  snowball.  Or,  better,  we  will 
both  go  and  take  the  babies; — then  what 
a  frolic  !  But  they  say  the  drifts  are 

51 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

very  deep,  else  the  snow  would  be  melted 
long  ago.  Great  coulees  and  ravines  all 
filled  to  the  top  and  packed  solid  by  the 
winds." 

The  girl  kissed  one  of  the  soft  hands 
as  she  released  it,  then  laughing  softly, 
stood  up  and  leaned  into  the  window 
beside  her  sister. 

"  It  does  look  as  though  we  could 
walk  to  it,  and  do  you  know,  Kitty,  be 
fore  I  went  up  there  last  week,  I  had 
many  a  mind  to  try  it.  But  the  miles 
were  long  and  numerous  as  I  found, 
though  Tom  humored  me  by  allowing 
me  to  go  as  slowly  as  I  pleased." 

"  It  won't  be  long  before  the  miles  are 
short  to  you,  — as  nothing  ;  then,  my 
sister,  you  will  be  gone  from  me  much, 
I  fear." 

But  the  little  woman's  eyes  were  bright 
with  happiness  as  she  said  it,  for  in  her 
husband  and  babies  she  had  found  her 
Heaven  long  before  Marjie  had  come. 
The  girl,  though  like  a  ray  of  sunshine, 
added  but  little  to  the  young  mother's 
already  well-filled  life.  But  as  Tom  had 

52 


WIT    CONQUERS    OBSTINACY. 

said,  it  was  not  well  for  a  woman  to  be 
always  alone,  and  they  were  both  thank 
ful  in  their  hearts  that  Marjie  had  come 
to  them. 

They  were  proud  of  this  girl  from 
the  western  civilization,  —  proud  of  her 
beauty,  her  brightness,  and  her  thousand 
little  graces.  Even  now  after  several 
weeks,  they  had  not  tired  of  watching 
her  with  admiration  as  she  romped  and 
played  with  the  two  small  children. 
The  boy  of  four,  and  the  small,  tod 
dling  girl  were  a  source  of  great  pleas 
ure  to  her,  for  she  had  never  been  with 
children  before,  and  every  day  she 
found  new  wonders,  —  new  revelations 
in  them. 

Kind,  honest  Tom  Howell  gave  her  a 
strong  brotherly  love  from  the  moment 
that  he  first  saw  her,  and  nothing  was  too 
good  for  this  little  sister,  as  he  was  wont 
to  say. 

This  morning  he  had  ridden  far,  hunt 
ing  horses,  and  from  a  number  that  he 
had  driven  into  the  corral,  he  picked  out 
two  which  he  thought  might  be  suitable 

63 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

for  Marjie  to  ride.  These  he  led  up  to 
the  house  for  inspection,  remarking  as  he 
stroked  the  neck  of  one  of  the  sleek 
animals  : 

"  It's  a  toss-up  between  them,  but  this 
seems  a  little  the  likeliest,  and  I  believe 
it's  the  least  bit  easier  riding." 

"  It's  a  beauty,"  exclaimed  the  girl, 
moving  forward  and  cautiously  petting 
the  one,  —  "  but  so  is  the  other.  I  can't 
tell  them  apart.  I  think,  Tom,  that  I 
will  take  them  both." 

"  Well,  you  must  be  intending  to  ride  ! 
In  a  month  you'll  need  a  whole  string  of 
horses,  according  to  this.  But  you  can 
have  them  as  well  as  not.  Haven't  got 
any  other  use  for  them.  I've  been  going 
to  break  them  to  drive  for  the  last  two 
years,  because  they're  so  well-matched, 
but  never  got  around  to  it  yet.  Wouldn't 
they  make  a  pretty  pair  of  drivers,  though  ? 
I'll  have  to  put  it  off  till  next  winter,  so 
you  can  have  them  just  as  well  as  not.  I 
guess  you'll  be  giving  old  Sour  Beans  a 
rest  now.  I'll  keep  this  one  up  for  you, 
and  when  he  gets  played  out  and  kind  of 

64 


WIT   CONQUERS    OBSTINACY. 

thin,  you  can  get  up  the  other  and  turn 
this  one  out." 

"  I'm  ever  so  much  obliged  to  you, 
Tom,  and  I'm  sure  that  Sour  Beans  will 
appreciate  it,  too,  though  I  think  that  I 
am  the  one  that  is  entitled  to  a  rest,  and 
I  hope  that  this  one  will  prove  easier. 
Poor  Sour  Beans  !  " 

The  girl  with  affected  dejection  looked 
toward  a  bunch  of  horses  where  a  faded 
sorrel  nag  was  rollicking  about  as  though 
it  had  never  owned  a  stiff  joint  and  was 
far  from  being  the  slowest,  roughest 
saddle  animal  on  the  place.  But  as  Tom 
had  said,  it  was  just  the  thing  for  a 
beginner. 

Long  before  the  noon  hour,  Marjie 
had  mounted  the  fresh  bay  and  was 
speeding  rapidly  across  the  prairie. 

"  Don't  worry,  Kitty,"  she  said,  as  she 
slipped  a  sandwich  into  the  saddle  pocket, 
"  I  will  probably  be  back  in  a  couple  of 
hours,  if  not,  then  later.  But  my  lucky 
star  never  deserts  me.  Nothing  can  hap 
pen  to  me  !  '  And  laughing  gaily,  she 
rode  away. 

65 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

But  Kitty  never  worried.  That  was, 
perhaps,  the  one  secret  of  her  happiness. 
She  trusted  blindly,  cheerfully,  to  the 
future.  In  that  respect  Marjie  was  like 
her,  as  is  all  true  youth. 

The  girl  had  gone  several  miles,  fol 
lowing  down  a  dimly  marked  road  which 
led  along  a  small  creek.  It  was  the  same 
stream  that  flowed  past  the  ranch  in  the 
mountains,  but  after  flowing  for  miles 
over  beds  of  alkali,  looked  vastly  changed. 

There  had  been  a  heavy  rain  storm,  or 
cloudburst,  the  day  before,  and  the  stream 
had  overflown,  leaving  a  soft  mud  upon 
its  banks.  Several  times  the  horse  had 
sunk  to  its  ankles,  and  Marjie  had  been 
obliged  to  avoid  certain  places  by  taking 
a  roundabout  way.  She  had  just  skirted 
one  mud-hole,  when  she  espied  in  the 
distance  what  at  first  she  thought  to  be 
tents,  but  soon  discovered  to  be  white 
covered  wagons  at  a  standstill.  She  rode 
on  and  quickly  came  up  with  two  large 
"  prairie  schooners."  The  wheels  of  the 
first  one  were  imbedded  in  the  soft,  sticky 
mud,  while  two  tired  looking  horses 


WIT    CONQUERS    OBSTINACY. 

were  making  futile  attempts  to  dislodge 
it,  aided  by  an  old  man  who  sat  upon 
the  seat  and  threatened  them  with  a  well 
worn  willow  and  many  harmless  words 
of  encouragement. 

"  Now,  Pa,  if  you  ain't  never  goin'  to 
move  on,  we  might  just  as  well  camp 
right  here !  "  called  a  shrill  voice  from 
the  rear  wagon,  and  an  elderly  woman 
climbed  down  from  the  seat  and  over  the 
wheel  to  get  a  better  view  of  the  situa 
tion.  As  she  moved  away  from  the 
wagon,  Marjie  crossed  the  creek  from  a 
point  farther  up,  and  rode  over  to  her. 

"  Can  I  be  of  any  assistance  to  you  ? 
I  see  that  you're  in  a  little  difficulty,"  said 
the  girl  earnestly.  The  woman  looked 
her  over  from  head  to  foot  critically. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  she  finallv  an- 

* 

swered.  "  You  might  if  you  had  a  four 
hoss  team  an'  a  yoke  of  oxen.  But  I'm 
just  as  much  obliged  fur  your  good  inten 
tions,  —  that  is,  I  s'pose  they're  good." 

The  girl  laughed  under  her  breath, 
then  slipped  from  her  saddle  and  stood 
beside  the  little  faded  woman. 

67 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

"  Of  course  they  are  good !  And  I 
wish  I  did  have  a  whole  string  team  here 
this  moment.  Your  horses  look  tired." 

"  Yes,  they're  plumb  played  out,  an'  so 
're  we,  too.  Been  on  the  trail  now  fur 
nigh  onto  three  months.  Yes,  an'  it 
ain't  very  good  travelin'  neither,  in  all 
kinds  of  weather.  But  we're  huntin'  a 
place.  Come  all  the  way  up  from  Idaho. 
Your  folks  live  anywhere  about  here  ? ': 

"  Yes,   my  sister  and   her  husband,  - 
four  or  five  miles  from   here.      But  how 
are  you    ever    going    to  get  that  wagon 
out  of  the  mud  ?  " 

"Well,  one  time  we  just  had  to  let  it 
stay  till  the  mud  dried  up  somewhat,  then 
we  all  set  to  work  an'  dug.  I  ain't  none 
so  sure  but  we'll  have  to  do  it  this  time." 

"  Oh,  that's  too  bad  !  There  must  be 
some  way  out.  Every  moment  it  stays 
there  it  settles  deeper.  If  you  could  get 
that  wagon  out  you  could  find  a  better 
crossing  for  the  other  one  somewhere 
else."  Then  with  a  sudden  thought,  she 
exclaimed  :  —  "  Why  don't  you  hitch 
both  teams  together?" 

58 


WIT   CONQUERS    OBSTINACY. 

"  Well,  you  see,  my  man,  he's  kind  of 
funny  about  some  things.  Now  he  'lows 
to  pull  that  wagon  out  with  that  there 
team  of  hisn,  an'  he'd  git  mighty  touchy 
if  I'd  hint  at  any  sich  thing.  'Twouldn't 
be  no  better  if  my  daughters,  here,  tried 
to  interfere.  Hi,  he  don't  'low  no  med- 
dlin'  from  wimmen  folks." 

The  woman  talked  brightly  and  seemed 
happily  resigned  to  her  fate. 

From  the  wagon  in  the  rear  three  or 
four  heads  peered  curiously,  the  old  man 
gave  his  whip  and  his  tongue  a  rest,  and 
bending  down  over  the  side  of  his  wagon, 
looked  to  see  what  a  stranger  was  doing 
there. 

"  It's  a  shame,"  continued  the  girl. 
"  I  am  sure  if  he  only  had  that  other 
team  on  there,  they  would  get  that  wagon 
out  in  no  time." 

"  But  he  won't,"  declared  the  woman. 
"  It  ain't  no  use  'tall.  You'd  jest  waste 
your  breath." 

"  Well,  don't  say  a  word.  I'm  going 
to  try,  anyway.  I  believe  that  he  will 
do  it." 

59 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER   RANCH. 

Marjie  mounted,  and  walking  her 
horse  out  into  the  mud  beside  the  in 
trenched  wagon,  smilingly  assailed  the 
old  man. 

"  Good-morning !  " 

"  Same  to  you,"  responded  the  old 
man.  "  It's  good  enough  over  head,  but 
it  ain't  so  all-fired  good  under  foot." 

"No,"  said  the  girl,  "that's  so." 
Then  looking  down  suddenly  at  the  mired 
wagon,  she  exclaimed  in  the  utmost  sur 
prise,  "  Why,  you're  stuck  in  the  mud, 
arn't  you  ?  Now  that's  too  bad.  I'll  go 
right  back  to  the  ranch  and  get  you 
another  team.  It's  only  a  few  miles  from 
here." 

"  You  won't  do  no  such  thing  !  I'm 
just  as  much  obliged  to  you,  young 
woman,  but  I've  another  team  of  my 
own  back  here,  an'  I'll  be  out  o'  this  hole 
quicker'n  you  can  say  Jack  Robinson !  " 

She  had  touched  his  vanity,  or  his 
pride,  for  though  she  did  not  fully  realize 
it,  he  was  one  of  the  most  independent 
men  that  ever  existed.  Perhaps  she 
divined  it  from  his  wife's  conversation, — 

60 


WIT   CONQUERS    OBSTINACY. 

for  obstinacy  and  independence  are  closely 
akin.  However  it  was,  he  climbed  down 
from  that  wagon  with  the  agility  of  a 
boy,  and  waded  back  through  the  mud. 
"  Here,  you,  Taggie,"  he  called  to  a 
young  girl  who  put  her  curly  head  out 
of  the  wagon  and  laughed  at  him  as  he 
struggled  through  the  mud,  "  git  down 
out  o'  there  an'  unhook  them  horses. 
Seems  like  some  o'  you  wimmen  folks 
might  'a'  had  that  done  before  this  !  " 


61 


CHAPTER    VII. 

A    STRANGE     RECOGNITION. 

iBOUT  four  o'clock  that  after 
noon,    Marjie    led    the    small 
caravan     through     the     ranch 
gate,    then     rode     on     before 
them  to  the  house. 

"  Well,  what  in  the  world  have  you 
picked  up  out  on  the  prairie,  little  sis 
ter  ? "  laughed  Tom,  as  he  stepped  out 
from  the  shady  porch. 

"They're  some  friends  of  mine,"  said 
the  girl,  leaning  over  slightly  and  speak 
ing  with  great  seriousness.  "  Their  name 
is  Winter,  and  they  are  real  nice  people. 
They're  hunting  for  a  ranch,  and  seem  to 
be  very  tired  traveling  across  the  country. 
I  asked  them  to  come  here  and  camp  un 
til  they  found  some  place  to  live.  I 
thought  it  would  be  nice  to  have  them 
here  for  a  while ;  they  are  really  nice, 

62 


1    STRANGE    RECOGNITION. 

good  people  and,  —  well  interesting.  I 
knew  that  you  wouldn't  care." 

She  ended  with  a  slight  questioning 
tone  in  her  voice,  and  looked  too  inno 
cently  sweet  to  be  resisted. 

"  Oh,  no,  certainly  not !  Bring  all  the 
folks  you  want,  —  have  'em  stay  as  long 
as  they  like,  and  if  it  gets  too  crowded, 
we'll  move  out.  Guess  we've  got  grub 
enough  to  last  a  few  days.  How  many 
is  there  in  the  outfit?" 

She  stiffened  in  her  saddle. 

"  Oh,  they've  got  their  own  food  and 
beds  and — everything,  and  I  thought 
they  could  camp  down  there  by  the  creek 
on  the  other  side  of  the  fence.  It  never 
occurred  to  me  that  you  would  object  to 
anything  as  harmless  as  that !  It  is  really 
an  unfortunate  mistake  !  I  will  ride  over 
before  they  get  here  and  tell  them  that 
they  are  not  welcome." 

She  drew  up  the  bridle  reins  as  she 
spoke,  but  Tom  detained  her,  his  honest 
eyes  showing  as  much  alarm  as  though  he 
had  not  seen  the  half-suppressed  smile  that 
hovered  over  the  look  of  assumed  injury. 

63 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

"  You  won't  do  anything  of  the  kind  !  " 
he  exclaimed.  "  I'll  go  and  tell  them 
they're  welcome  to  camp  outside  the 
fence  as  long  as  they  want  to.  You  get 
down  and  run  in.  There's  company 
here,  and  we've  been  waiting  for  you  to 
come  home." 

"  Thank  you,  Tom  !  You're  a  dear," 
she  said,  as  he  swung  her  lightly  to  the 
ground. 

She  stooped  to  pet  the  great  hounds 
that  gathered  around  her,  rubbing  their 
warm  bodies  against  her  skirt  and  licking 
her  hands  with  their  soft  tongues,  trying 
in  dog  fashion  to  tell  her  that  they  were 
sorry  they  had  been  away  when  she 
started  out  for  her  ride,  as  they  generally 
accompanied  her.  Then  in  more  than 
human  fashion,  they  showed  the  love 
from  their  true,  faithful  hearts.  In  a 
moment  she  passed  into  the  house  fol 
lowed  by  four  pairs  of  sad,  wistful 
eyes. 

The  monotonous  regularity  of  a  wo 
man's  rasping  voice  informed  the  girl, 
before  she  opened  the  door,  that  one 

64 


A    STRANGE    RECOGNITION. 

of  the  visitors  was  Mrs.  Howell  —  ordi 
narily  called  Lil.  She  sat  near  the  door, 
screening  with  her  huge  form  the  other 
occupants  of  the  room.  As  Marjie  en 
tered,  the  woman  did  not  cease  speaking, 
but  changing  her  theme  without  taking 
breath,  went  on  :  — 

"  Pretty  hot  day  to  go  visitin',  ain't  it  ? 
How'd  do  ?  George  had  to  drive  some 
cattle  down  here,  an'  I  was  wishin' 
powerful  to  go  along  with  him,  but  I 
ain't  much  good  at  ridin'  horseback, 
a  little  too  stout,  you  know.  I  was  a 
thinkin'  about  it  an'  wishin'  I  could  'a' 
went,  when  who'd  come  along  but  Jerry, 
here.  So  I  just  thought  I'd  get  him  to 
hitch  up  a  team  to  the  spring  wagon  an' 
drive  me  down  here,  bein'  as  I  owe  you 
folks  a  visit,  anyway.  So  we  got  here 
pretty  near  as  quick  as  George.  I  don't 
know,  if  the  day  hadn't  been  so  hot,  but 
we'd  'a'  beat  him  here.  Don't  you  think 
so,  Jerry  ?  That's  a  pretty  good  team  ;  I 
reckon  they  can't  be  beat." 

Marjie  nodded  brightly  to  them  all, 
and  seated  herself  upon  a  covered  box, 

66 


MARJIE  OF  THE  LOWER  RANCH. 

where  she  waited  patiently  in  a  listening 
attitude  for  the  woman  to  cease  talking. 
It  suddenly  occurred  to  Lil,  that  perhaps 
the  girl  might  have  something  to  say,  so 
she  broke  off  abruptly,  assuming  her  best 
manners. 

From  an  inner  room  came  the  sweet 
voice  of  the  young  mother  as  she  sang 
the  little  one  to  sleep.  Marjie  listened 
for  a  moment,  a  soft  look  flashing  across 
her  sweet  face,  then  she  told  them  about 
her  adventure  and  of  the  new  acquaint- 
rces  that  she  found.  Turning  to  Jerry, 
she  added  :  — 

"  And  there  are  four  girls  in  the 
family.  Just  imagine,  four  new  girls ! 
And  the  youngest  one  of  them  is  the 
dearest  thing  !  They  call  her  Taggie,  - 
such  an  odd  name.  But  not  nearly  so 
odd  as  the  other  girls'  names.  I  nearly 
tumbled  off  my  horse  when  their  mother 
introduced  them  to  me.  The  funniest 
combinations  !  You  see,  their  last  name 
is  Winter,  and  the  oldest  girl  is  called 
Ice,  the  next,  Snow,  and  the  third,  Frost. 
Doesn't  that  seem  to  lower  the  tempera- 

66 


A    STRANGE    RECOGNITION. 

ture  ?  I  can't  understand  why  they 
didn't  give  the  little  one  a  chilling  name, 
also.  Perhaps  they  ran  short.  I  am 
going  to  ask  them  sometime." 

At  this  Jerry  moved  uneasily  in  his 
chair,  opened  his  mouth  as  though  sur 
prised  and  about  to  say  something,  then, 
thinking  better,  closed  it  again  firmly. 
It  caused  Marjie  to  wonder  for  an  instant, 
but  the  others  had  not  noticed  him. 
Mrs.  Howell's  eyes  were  not  particularly 
quick,  and  those  of  George  Howell  were 
fastened  upon  the  girl's  fair  face. 

Sometime  later,  Marjie  walked  with 
Jerry  down  through  the  field  to  where 
the  travelers  had  put  up  a  tent. 

"  It  doesn't  take  a  very  great  time  in 
this  country  to  set  up  light  housekeeping," 
she  laughed.  "  But  what  fun  it  must 
be  !  How  strange  that  you  should  know 
them,  Jerry." 

The  boy's  face  flushed,  and  he  an 
swered  quickly  :  — 

"  How  do  you  know  that  I  know 
them  ?  I  never  said  so  !  " 

"  No,  that  is  true.      You  didn't  say  so, 

07 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

-  not  in  words  ;  but  you  do  know  them, 
do  you  not  ?  " 

It  was  second  nature  to  Jerry  to  be 
secretive,  —  a  part  of  his  life.  For  a 
moment  he  did  not  know  how  to  answer 
the  girl. 

"  Well,  I  used  to  know  a  family  down 
in  Idaho  that  had  names  something  like 
them.  But  I  was  pretty  young,  and  if 
it's  the  same  ones,  they  most  likely  won't 
know  me  any  more.  So  I  thought  I'd 
just  say  nothin'  about  it  unless  they  did 
recognize  me." 

"  If  they  don't  know  you,  why  I  won't 
say  anything  about  it ;  you  may  be  sure 
of  that,  Jerry.  I'm  real  good  at  keeping 
things  to  myself.  There,  that's  Taggie, 
the  young  one !  Now  she  has  gone 
inside  the  tent  again.  Doesn't  she  look 
like  a  pretty  boy  with  that  short,  curly 
hair  of  hers  ?  The  other  girls  are  — 
well,  no  longer  young.  But  they  are  all 
nice  and  —  odd." 

Mrs.  Winter  met  them  at  the  wagon 
and  invited  them  to  go  inside  of  the  tent, 
making  many  apologies  as  she  led  the 


A    STRANGE    RECOGNITION. 

way  for  its  appearance  and  lack  of  com 
fort.  The  old  man  was  down  on  his 
knees  putting  up  the  camp  stove,  while 
the  young  girl,  Taggie,  held  a  small, 
rusty  stove-pipe  in  place  for  him.  She 
blushed  deeply  as  the  flap  of  the  tent 
closed  upon  the  callers  and  revealed  a 
young  man,  and  she  looked  down  in 
stantly  and  shame-facedly  at  her  bare 
feet. 

"  Hold  that  'air  pipe  stiddy  if  you  ever 
expect  me  to  git  this  thing  up  'fore 
midnight.  How'd  do  ? "  he  said,  as  he 
glanced  up  and  saw  the  cause  of  his 
daughter's  uneasiness.  "Jest  take  some 
seats  if  you  can  find  any.  This  here 
stove  is  a  plumb  nuisance.  The  big  bolt 
got  jolted  out  o'  the  bottom  'bout  a 
month  ago,  an'  it's  been  a  heap  o'  trouble 
to  git  it  together  ever  since." 

While  the  old  man  continued  talking, 
Marjie  nudged  the  boy  and  whispered  :  — 
"  What's  your  name  ?  Your  last  one,  I 
mean.  I  want  to  introduce  you." 

Jerry  looked  startled,  then  answered 
slowly,  "  Hendricks,  —  Jerry  Hendricks." 

69 


MARJIE  OF  THE  LOWER  RANCH. 

Just    then    Mrs.    Winter    entered    the 
tent  with  some  chairs,  and  Marjie  said:  — 
"  I  almost  forgot  to  introduce  my  friend. 
This  is  Jerry."     The  woman  looked  at 
him  in  her  sharp,  penetrating  way. 

"  Seems  like  I've  seen  you  somewheres 
before."  Turning  to  her  husband,  she 
inquired,  — "  Hi,  ain't  you  seen  this 
young  man  somewheres  ?  " 

The  old  man  got  up  from  his  knees 
and  surveyed  the  boy  in  much  the  same 
fashion  that  his  wife  had  done.  Jerry's 
face  looked  expressionless  and  stony. 

"What's  yer  name?"  he  inquired 
sharply. 

The  boy's  face  did  not  change  expres 
sion  as  he  faced  the  man  unflinchingly, 
and  answered,  —  "  Jerry  Hendricks." 

A  quick  look  passed  between  the  man 
and  his  wife, —  a  look  that  to  Marjie 
told  of  mystery,  unsolved  and  alluring, 
but  not  a  word  was  spoken.  Finally  the 
old  man  pointed  to  the  chairs,  saying,  - 
"  Set  down,  and  make  yourselves  at 
home."  Then  he  turned  and  walked 
abruptly  out  of  the  tent. 

70 


A   STRANGE    RECOGNITION. 

They  did  not  remain  there  long,  and 
when  Marjie  delivered  the  milk  and  eggs 
that  Kitty  had  sent  over,  they  walked 
back  through  the  field.  Jerry  was  un 
commonly  quiet,  and  the  girl,  failing  to 
draw  him  out,  hummed  happily  to  her 
self,  and  gathered  as  she  went  a  few  wild 
flowers.  Just  before  they  reached  the 
house,  she  turned  to  him  quickly  and 
remarked  :  —  "  You  are  a  nice  boy.  I 
like  you.  We  will  be  real  friends,  won't 
we  ?  Then,  sometime,  I  will  call  upon 
you,  up  there  in  your  mountain  home, — 
on  you,  and  Ike,  your  partner,  —  and  get 
a  little  glimpse  of  how  miners  and  bache 
lors  live.  And  those  people  down  there," 
she  added,  pointing  with  her  bouquet 
of  flowers,  "  they  are  very  peculiar,  — 
and  you  can  trust  me." 


71 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

THE    WAY    OF    THE    WORLD. 

HE  boy  would  perhaps  have 
answered  much,  but  no  befit 
ting  words  came  to  him. 
Afterward  he  thought  of 
many  things  that  he  could  have  said,  but 
the  fear  that  he  might  stumble,  that  he 
would  say  something  to  betray  himself, 
held  him  dumb.  For  all  the  world  he 
would  not  have  this  girl  know  the  repu 
tation  that  he  bore,  or  the  life  that  he 
had  lived.  He  was  sure  that  he  could 
trust  her  absolutely,  for  already  he  felt 
implicit  confidence  in  her.  But  there 
was  Ike;  —  that  would  keep  him  silent 
always.  Finally  two  little  words, 
"Thank  you,"  came  to  his  tongue,  and 
he  spoke  them  from  a  full  heart.  He 
might  in  time  become  a  good,  steady 
man  of  the  world,  but  he  felt  then  that 

72 


THE    WAY    OF    THE    WORLD. 

the  shadow  of  the  past  would  cling  to 
him  through  life.  He  did  not  realize 
that  Time  is  a  great  blotter. 

When  they  reached  the  house  they 
found  Mrs.  Howell  seated  in  her  spring 
wagon,  patiently  waiting  for  Jerry. 
With  a  ponderously  uneasy  shifting  of 
her  position,  she  said  :  —  "I  tried  to  get 
George  to  drive  me  back  so's  you  could 
stay  longer  an'  come  home  on  his  horse. 
But  George,  he  wouldn't  have  it  that 
way,  so  I  guess  you'll  have  to  come 
along.  He  says  he  wants  to  stay  for  a 
while  an'  talk  to  Tom,  an'  he'll  ketch  up 
with  us  before  we  git  there.  I  ain't  a 
carin'  noways,  only  I  thought  mebbe 
you'd  like  to  stay  yourself.  But  bein'  as 
we've  got  to  git  back  to-night,  we'll 
have  to  be  a  movin'.  I'd  like  powerful 
well  to  stay  longer,  for  I  ain't  had  half  a 
talk  with  you  folks ;  but  the  best  of 
friends  must  part,  you  know.  So  jump 
in,  Jerry,  an'  we'll  go,  for  if  I  stay  much 
longer,  we  won't  git  home  to-night,  - 
an'  no  moon,  either.  We  have  to  go 
pretty  slow,  for  it's  kind  o'  muddy  in 

73 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

some  places.  This's  a  pretty  heavy 
wagon,  an*  there's  some  mighty  steep 
grades  to  climb."  She  continued  thus 
until  the  boy,  with  a  touch  of  the  whip, 
started  the  horses,  and  they,  anxious  to 
reach  their  pasture,  went  off  at  a  rapid 
gait. 

George  Howell  watched  them  gloom 
ily  until  they  were  far  on  the  other  side 
of  the  field,  then  he  turned  around  to 
speak  to  Margaret,  but  she  had  dis 
appeared.  He  saw  her,  however,  as  he 
rode  away.  She  was  just  returning  from 
the  Winters'  camp,  and  he  stopped  his 
horse  beside  her,  and  speaking  courte 
ously,  remarked :  "  I  was  wondering  if  I 
was  going  to  get  to  say  good-by  to  you. 
You've  been  down  to  those  people?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  girl,  "  with  some 
bread  and  cake  that  Kitty  thought  they 
might  like.  She  is  always  thoughtful, 
you  know." 

"  And  isn't  Marjie  always  thoughtful  ?" 
queried  the  man. 

"I'm  afraid  she  isn't  —  always  —  of 
other  people,"  was  the  reply.  "  But  of 

74 


THE   WAY   OF   THE   WORLD. 

herself,  —  yes,  I  believe  that  I  can  safely 
say  she  is." 

"  I  don't  believe  that,"  he  said  ear 
nestly.  "  It  is  true  I  haven't  seen  very 
much  of  you  —  yet,  but  I  haven't  got  you 
sized  up  like  that." 

"  Well,  if  you  imagine  that  I  possess 
an  unusual  amount  of  goodness,  you  are 
apt  to  be  most  terribly  shocked  some  day, 
for  I  am  no  saint,"  came  Marjie's  asser 
tion  with  a  twinkle  in  her  eye.  "I'm 
just  a  common,  every-day  girl,  looking 
for  a  good  time.  When  old  age  over 
takes  me  I  will  think  about  being 
saintly." 

The  man  was  silent  for  a  moment, 
watching  her,  but  something  in  her 
glance  made  him  look  away  over  the 
vast  expanse  of  rolling  prairie  land. 

"  You  have  quite  a  ride  before  you. 
Don't  you  dread  it  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Well,  no,  not  much.  But  I  wish 
you  were  going  with  me.  I  wanted  to 
see  you  before  I  went  to  tell  you  that  I 
—  that  we  are  expecting  you  to  come  up 
to  stay  several  days.  You'll  come,  won't 

75 


MARJIE    OF   THE   LOWER    RANCH. 

you  ?      Maybe   you'll   find   me   as   hospit 
able  as  Tom." 

"  Oh,  it  seems  so  good  to  have  peo 
ple  of  your  own,  people  who  care ! 
exclaimed  Marjie  impulsively.  "  Of 
course  I'll  go  !  And  you  will  be  another 
brother  to  me  like  Tom  !  Won't  that 
be  jolly  ?  I'll  just  explore  those  mount 
ains  from  top  to  bottom  !  I've  been  wild 
to  get  up  on  the  top-most  peak." 

"  Well,  be  sure  and  come  soon.  Now 
don't  forget,  or  I'll  be  down  here  after 
you.  'Round  here,  you  see,  we're  not 
used  to  waiting  when  goin'  will  fetch 
results,"  said  the  man  as  he  rode  away. 

Marjie  walked  happily  to  the  house. 

A  few  days  later,  the  day  after  the 
Winter  family  took  up  their  tent  and 
set  out  to  locate  upon  a  suitable  claim 
that  they  had  found,  Marjie  had  an  op 
portunity  to  take  the  desired  trip  to  the 
mountains.  One  of  the  men  that  worked 
for  Tom  was  going  up  there  for  some 
cattle,  so  the  girl  went  with  him.  She 
would  willingly  have  gone  alone,  but 
Tom  feared  that  she  was  not  familiar 

76 


THE    WAY    OF    THE    WORLD. 

enough  with  the  road.  They  made  an 
early  start,  reaching  the  Howell  ranch  in 
the  middle  of  the  forenoon.  The  woman, 
Lil,  who  always  insisted  upon  doing  her 
own  housework,  was  down  upon  her  knees 
scrubbing  the  kitchen  floor,  and  did  not 
see  Marjie  until  she  entered  the  room. 

"  Land  o'  goodness  !  "  she  exclaimed, 
raising  her  scrub  brush  aloft.  "  You 
about  scared  me  to  death  !  I'm  glad  to 
see  you,  though.  Just  make  yourself  to 
home ;  I'll  be  through  with  this  floor  in 
a  minute.  I  was  just  thinkin'  this  morn- 
in'  that  I'd  better  scrub  up,  for  mebbe 
you'd  be  along.  An'  you  sure  caught 
me  right  in  the  act !  Come  up  alone  ? 
No  ?  Jim  Barns  ?  Well,  Jim's  'lowing 
to  drive  down  some  of  those  cattle,  I 
reckon.  I  see  that  outfit  that  was 
camped  by  your  place  come  by  here  yes 
terday,  an'  they're  goin'  to  take  up  a  place 
right  above  here.  It's  kind  of  hard 
when  people  get  to  crowdin'  in  on  you 
like  that,  but  then  we  can't  expect  to 
hold  all  the  land  on  this  side  of  the 
mountains.  That's  what  I  told  George, 

77 


MARJIE   OF   THE   LOWER    RANCH. 

but  he  was  mighty  put  out  about  it,  just 
the  same.  I  reckon  he'll  try  to  buy  'em 
out  after  awhile.  You've  come  to  stay  a 
few  days,  ain't  you  ?  Well,  I've  got  the 
spare  room  fixed  up  for  you,  an'  I've  been 
callin'  it  your  room,  -  -  Marjie's  room. 
George  says  when  he  goes  into  town 
that  he'll  get  some  more  fixings  for  it, 
for  it's  kind  o'  bare  now.  We  don't  care 
much  about  style  up  here.  George,  he's 
gone  away,  but  I  expect  him  back  for 
dinner.  Ain't  you  kind  o'  hungry  after 
your  ride  ?  Just  step  over  to  that  cup 
board  and  help  yourself.  No  ?  Well, 
I'll  start  dinner  pretty  quick.  I've  just 
got  this  little  place  under  the  table  to 
scrub.  My,  but  that's  hard  work  !  I'll 
have  to  get  up  a  bit  and  take  the  kink 
out  of  my  back."  The  woman  rose 
with  difficulty.  In  an  instant  Marjie  had 
taken  her  place  upon  the  floor,  and  was 
scrubbing  as  though  she  had  done  noth 
ing  else  all  her  life. 

.  "  You  go  and  sit  down,"  said  the  girl 
laughingly,  "  and  let  me  show  you  how 
beautifully  I  can  scrub." 

78 


THE   WAY    OF    THE    WORLD. 

"  You'll  get  your  clothes  all  slopped 
up  !  "  exclaimed  the  woman.  "  Just  look 
at  me.  Well,  bless  my  stars,  if  you  ain't 
got  it  most  done  already.  Here,  stand 
up  an'  put  this  apron  around  you  or 
I  won't  let  you  do  it !  "  So  saying, 
the  woman  took  one  from  the  wall  and 
wrapped  its  huge  folds  about  the  girl, 
who,  holding  the  scrubbing  brush  away 
from  her,  laughed  heartily  as  the  woman 
pinned  it  high  up  under  her  arms. 

"  Now  go  to  it,"  said  the  woman,  smil 
ing  at  the  figure  the  girl  made.  "  Now, 
if  you  don't  look  just  like  a  dressed  up 
doll,  I  don't  want  a  cent.  I'll  just  go 
down  cellar  and  bring  up  some  truck  for 
dinner."  The  woman  shambled  out, 
while  the  girl  continued  her  task.  She 
was  working  briskly  when  she  looked  up 
suddenly  and  saw  George  Howell  stand 
ing  in  the  open  doorway,  staring  at  her 
with  the  utmost  astonishment.  Marjie 
blushed  slightly,  frowned,  and  then  con 
tinuing  her  work,  said  in  a  rich  Irish 
brogue  :  — 

"  Is  it   the   masther  ye  are,  sirr  ?      Sure 

79 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

an  I'm  the  new  sarvant.  Do  yez  mane 
that  ye've  come  fur  yer  dinner  an'  it  not 
up  out  of  the  cellar  yet !  " 

"Well,  I  like  this,"  he  finally  voiced. 
"  You  come  here  visiting  and  then  have 
to  get  down  and  scrub  a  dirty  floor  !  It 
makes  me  feel  ashamed  !  " 

"  Don't,"  said  Marjie,  rising  to  her 
feet.  "It  isn't  becoming, —  besides,  I've 
only  scrubbed  eighteen  square  inches. 
So  you  will  forgive  me,  won't  you  ?  And 
you  haven't  said  that  you  are  glad  to  see 
me,  my  new  brother !  But  of  course 
you  are.  Your  scowling  face  shows  it." 

"  Well,  I  sure  didn't  expect  you  home 
so  soon,  George,"  said  his  wife,  as  laden 
with  a  dishpan  full  of  potatoes  and  canned 
goods  she  came  laboriously  up  out  of  the 
cellar.  "  You  must  'a'  known  Marjie 
was  here  !  ' 


80 


CHAPTER    IX. 

AN     INTERRUPTED    SLEEP. 

HE  remainder  of  that  day,  the 
first  among  strange  people,  in 
a  novel,  unfamiliar  atmos 
phere,  passed  quickly  and 
pleasantly  to  Marjie.  She  enjoyed  every 
thing,  from  the  woman's  tiresome  jangle 
to  the  man's  nervous  attentions,  with  the 
unimpaired  taste  of  early  youth.  There 
were  no  clouds  in  the  sky  of  her  bright 
new  holidays.  She  had  accompanied  the 
woman  to  her  garden  that  afternoon  and 
admired  the  neatly  planted  rows  of  young 
vegetables,  she  had  gone  to  the  corral  and 
watched  the  man,  Jim,  start  a  small 
bunch  of  cattle  down  toward  the  prairie, 
and  later  had  walked  up  to  the  old  de 
serted  cabin  at  the  mouth  of  the  timbered 
gulch.  Before  darkness  had  fully  settled 
down  upon  the  long  June  evening,  she 

81 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER   RANCH. 

retired  gratefully  to  the  room  that  the 
woman,  Lil,  had  prepared  for  her  at  the 
end  of  the  ranch  house.  As  the  woman 
had  said,  the  room  was  bare  and  devoid 
of  furniture,  there  was  no  curtain  at  the 
window,  but  the  bed  was  comfortable,  as 
Marjie  discovered  after  she  had  fastened 
her  long  coat  up  over  the  small  window 
and  hastily  prepared  for  sleep. 

It  was  past  midnight  when  the  pound 
ing  of  horses'  feet  on  the  hard  ground 
outside  the  house  caused  Marjie  to  waken 
suddenly,  half  alarmed.  All  about  her 
was  in  total  darkness,  not  even  the  faint 
est  ray  of  light  showing  beneath  the 
window's  heavy  covering.  But  she 
laughed  at  her  fears,  dismissed  the  idea 
that  it  was  morning,  and  groped  about 
the  sides  of  the  room  for  the  window, 
which,  rinding  at  last,  she  opened  and 
peered  out  into  the  darkness  of  the 
night. 

The  forms  of  several  men  were  sil 
houetted  against  the  light  log  walls  of  the 
bunk-house,  and  an  indistinct  mumble  of 
gruff  voices  could  be  heard  ;  but  besides 

82 


AN    INTERRUPTED    SLEEP. 

a  few  emphatic  oaths  and  broken  sen 
tences,  nothing  definite  came  to  the  ears 
of  the  girl,  who,  fully  awake,  sat  beside 
the  open  window  more  in  wonder  than 
in  fear,  and  watching  withal.  Who  were 
the  men  dimly  shown  through  the  dark 
ness,  and  what  were  they  going  to  do  ? 
All  at  once  the  sound  of  their  voices 
ceased,  as  from  a  door  farther  down  came 
the  unmistakable  bulk  of  the  woman,  Lil, 
and  a  voice  which  carried  well,  broke  the 
stillness :  — 

"  You  fellers  ain't  got  no  more  brains 
than  a  grasshopper  !  What  do  you  want  to 
make  such  a  racket  around  here  for,  any 
way  ?  Don't  you  know  that  the  girl's  in 
the  end  room  there,  an'  you'll  be  wakin' 
her  up  the  first  thing  you  know  !  George, 
you  just  take  the  boys  into  .the  bunk- 
house,  and  don't  let  me  hear  any  more 
noise  around  this  here  place  to-night !  " 
Without  a  word  the  men  slowly  moved 
away,  the  woman  went  inside  and  closed 
the  door,  and  in  a  few  minutes  a  light 
shone  dimly  through  the  grimy  windows 
of  the  bunk-house. 

83 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 


The  excitement  was  over,  and  after 
watching  the  light  in  the  bunk-house  for 
a  short  time  and  wondering  what  it  all 
meant,  Marjie  went  back  to  her  bed.  In 
the  morning  she  half  imagined  it  had 
been  a  dream,  so  fanciful  it  seemed. 
The  woman  had  been  up  for  hours,  al 
though  it  was  yet  early,  for  the  sun 
had  not  climbed  far  over  the  mountain 
tops. 

"  I  guess  you  must  have  slept  well,  for 
you're  as  bright  as  a  dollar,"  was  the 
woman's  greeting  as  Marjie  entered  the 
kitchen.  "  I've  got  some  news  for  you. 
Jerry  come  along  about  an  hour  ago  an' 
I  told  him  you  was  here.  He  was 
mighty  pleased  to  hear  it,  an'  he's  gone 
down  to  the  creek  to  ketch  some  fish  for 
your  breakfast.  Ain't  that  the  kind  of  a 
boy  to  have  around  ? ' 

"  Jerry  here  ?  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  !  "  ex 
claimed  the  girl,  forgetting  the  questions 
she  intended  to  ask  about  the  midnight 
visitors.  "  I'll  go  down  and  find  him. 
Did  you  say  he  went  down  the  creek  ? " 

"  Yes,    down.      Run    along.      It'll    do 

84 


AN    INTERRUPTED    SLEEP. 

you  good  before  breakfast,  and  I'll  have 
it  ready  by  the  time  you  come  back." 

Bare-headed,  the  girl  ran  down  the 
path,  and  the  woman  called  after  her : 
"  Tell  Jerry  not  to  ketch  all  the  fish  out 
of  the  creek,  an'  to  come  along  back  an' 
have  breakfast  with  you  !  " 

Marjie  nodded  in  answer  and  ran  on 
with  the  happy  freedom  of  a  child.  It 
was  a  glorious  day,  and  her  thoughts  ran  as 
lightly  and  quickly  as  her  feet.  A  great 
hawk  flew  past  and  soared  high  above  her 
head,  and  watching  it  as  she  ran,  she 
came  abruptly  to  a  standstill  almost  in 
the  arms  of  a  large  man  whom  she  had 
run  unceremoniously  against. 

"  Oh  !  I  beg  your  pardon  !  "  she  ex 
claimed  breathlessly,  as  she  disengaged 
herself.  "  I  should  have  looked,  but  it 
was  the  hawk.  Did  you  see  it  ?  Such  a 
large  one !  I  hope  I  didn't  frighten 
you.  This  brush  makes  it  difficult  to  see 
far  ahead,  but  isn't  it  lovely  ? " 

"  Not  one-half  as  lovely  as  you,"  an 
swered  the  man.  "  Aren't  you  afraid  the 
sun  will  burn  your  face  ? " 

85 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

The  girl's  ardor  cooled  suddenly. 
Her  expression  changed  with  her  mood. 
She  looked  at  him  steadily  and  thought 
fully  as  she  said  :  "  I  do  not  like  that. 
But  since  you  are  my  new  brother, — 
another  brother  to  me  like  Tom, —  it  is 
out  of  my  power  to  object.  But  from 
anyone  else  it  would  be  intolerable  !  I 
positively  detest  anything  like  that,  -  -  it 
is  so  empty  and  meaningless.  I  am  just 
as  much  obliged  to  you  for  thinking  me 
fair,  but  I'm  not  to  blame  for  that, --so, 
please,  don't  remind  me  of  it  again." 

He  would  have  answered,  but  she  ran 
past  him,  saying  over  her  shoulder  as  she 
went :  "  I'm  hunting  for  Jerry.  He  is 
fishing.  Could  you  tell  me  which  way 
he  went  ? " 

"  I  ain't  seen  him  since  he  came,  but 
I  don't  think  he's  gone  very  far,"  an 
swered  the  man  politely,  as  he  walked  on, 
confused,  yet  self-contained.  The  girl 
was  as  queer  and  complex  as  his  own  life 
had  lately  grown  to  be,  a  fact  which  just 
then  was  bothersome. 

A  few  steps  farther  on,  Marjie    came 

86 


AN    INTERRUPTED    SLEEP. 

unexpectedly  upon  the  boy  who  motioned 
her  to  be  quiet,  then  gave  his  whole 
attention  to  the  sharp-eyed  trout.  Finally 
he  turned  around  to  her  and  remarked  as 
he  twisted  his  line  about  the  willow  rod  : 
"  I  guess  they  won't  bite  any  more  in 
this  hole.  Anyway,  I've  got  enough, 
don't  you  think  so  ?  Here,  you  can  string 
'em  on  this  willow  if  you  want  to." 

She  looked  at  him  in  perplexity,  then 
touched  one  of  the  bright-colored  fellows 
very  cautiously  with  the  tip  of  her  finger. 
"  Wait  a  minute,"  she  said  nervously. 
"  I  never  touched  a  live  fish  before  in 
my  life."  Then  laughing  at  his  look 
of  astonishment,  went  on  :  "  You  think 
that  queer,  don't  you,  -  -  that  a  girl  of 
my  age  should  confess  to  such  a  thing  ? 
But  I  never  went  fishing  in  my  life,  though 
I  have  always  lived  near  the  ocean.  Ever 
since  I  can  remember,  my  aunt  wras  an 
invalid,  and  after  my  study  hours  I  was 
always  with  her.  We  were  great  com 
panions,"  she  added  quickly  to  the  boy's 
look  of  commiseration.  "  I  have  never 
regretted  it.  She  taught  me  many,  many 

87 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

things.  My  life  with  her  was  very  happy 
in  spite  of  the  great,  dreary  house.  One 
thing  she  taught  me  was  that  one  can 
accomplish  anything  that  one  sets  deter 
minedly  about,  so  /  am  going  to  string 
these  fish,  as  you  say,  if  you  will  give  me 
the  faintest  idea  of  how  it  is  done."  She 
was  bravely  holding  a  wriggling  fish  in 
her  hand,  which  Jerry  took  from  her, 
and  with  great  seriousness  showed  her 
how  to  string  upon  the  willow  fork.  In 
a  moment  her  quick  fingers  had  strung 
the  ten  fine  trout,  which,  holding  out  at 
arm's  length,  she  proudly  surveyed.  The 
boy  took  them  from  her,  she  washed  her 
hands  in  the  creek,  and  then  the  two 
started  back  to  the  house. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  came,  Jerry," 
said  the  girl,  as  they  walked  along.  "No 
one  called  yesterday,  and  I  was  wonder 
ing  seriously  if  I  could  find  your  camp. 
That  reminds  me,  —  was  there  anyone 
here  when  you  came  this  morning?" 

"  No  one  at  all,"  answered  the  boy, 
"  but  George  and  Lil." 

"  That's  queer.      Such  a  strange  thing 

88 


AN    INTERRUPTED    SLEEP. 

happened  in  the  night.  I  was  wakened 
suddenly  by  the  sound  of  horseback  riders, 
coming  pell-mell  past  my  window. 
Everything  was  so  still  about  the  place 
when  I  went  to  sleep,  that  for  a  moment 
I  was  frightened  and  couldn't  realize 
where  I  was.  Then  it  was  so  dark  in 
the  room,  and  I  had  such  a  time  to  find 
the  window.  It  was  really  ridiculous  the 
way  in  which  I  managed  to  stumble 
and  fall  about  that  room.  When  I 
finally  did  reach  the  window,  I  looked  out, 
and  there  at  the  end  of  the  bunk-house 
were  three  or  four  horseback  riders,  — 
men,  judging  from  their  voices  and  their 
swearing.  They  seemed  to  be  arguing 
some  point,  but  I  couldn't  understand 
what  they  said.  Then  Mrs.  Howell 
opened  the  door  and  said  something  that 
made  them  all  move  into  the  bunk-house. 
That  is  all.  I  thought  you  might  under 
stand  it.  I  was  going  to  ask  the  people 
here.  It  seems  almost  like  a  dream." 

"  I  think  if  I  was  you,"  said  the  boy 
quietly,  "  that  I'd  call  it  a  dream." 

She  looked  at  him  wonderingly,  deeply 

89 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

perplexed  for  the  instant,  then  after  a 
moment's  thought  replied  :  "  I  dare  say 
I  dreamed.  I  dreamed,  also,  the  other 
day  when  I  was  with  you  in  the  Winters' 
camp.  This  is  a  country  for  dreams,  — 
and  for  dreamers  like  me." 


oo 


CHAPTER    X. 

A    NAMELESS    GIRL    WITH    A    MEMORY. 

>ERRY  remained  to  breakfast 
with  Marjie,  and  far  into  the 
forenoon.  When  he  finally 
said  that  he  must  be  going 
back  as  His  Highness  would  be  expect 
ing  him,  the  girl  ran  outside,  and  return 
ing  soon,  remarked  :  "  George  is  getting 
my  horse  so  that  I  may  go  with  you  as 
far  as  the  Winters'  new  ranch.  You 
don't  object,  do  you,  Jerry  ? " 

"No,"  answered  the  boy,  "it  isn't 
exactly  on  my  road,  but  I'll  be  glad  to 
go  along  with  you,  and  show  you  the 
place."  Then  he  added,  turning  to  the 
woman,  Lil :  —  "I  don't  want  to  forget 
this  time  that  His  Highness  wants  some 
papers,  if  you've  got  any." 

"  Does     he     prefer     them     baked     or 

91 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

boiled?"  asked  Marjie  slyly,  as  the  wo 
man  searched  about  the  room. 

"  He  ain't  very  particular,"  answered 
the  boy,  smiling  at  the  reminiscence. 

"  You  see  I  remembered,"  laughed  the 
girl.  "  So  I  packed  up  an  assortment, 
from  a  Sunday-school  tract  to  a  New 
York  Sunday  newspaper,  including  a  lot 
of  good  magazines.  Such  a  lot  that  Jim 
casually  inquired  as  he  tied  the  bundle 
to  his  saddle,  if  I  hadn't  better  take  a 
pack  horse  along.  That  was  very  un 
kind,  so  I  didn't  tell  him  what  the  pack 
age  contained.  I  will  go  and  get  it,  and 
if  you  like  your  partner  as  well  as  I  think 
you  do,  you  will  manage  to  take  them  to 
him." 

"  You're  good,"  said  the  boy,  as  Mar 
jie,  laden  with  a  large  package,  returned. 
"  Ike'll  be  terrible  glad  to  get  all  this. 
He  ain't  used  to  havin'  anything  like 
this  done  for  him." 

"  My  goodness  !  '"  exclaimed  the  wo 
man,  as  she  handed  him  a  newspaper,  "  I 
guess  all  that  ought  to  last  him  about  a 


year! 


92 


A  NAMELESS    GIRL  WITH    A   MEMORY. 

"  A  year  is  a  long  time,"  said  Marjie. 
"  Tell  him  that  I  will  have  many  such 
packages  for  him  in  that  length  of  time, 
and  feel  pleased  to  put  to  such  good  use 
what  to  me  is  valueless." 

"  He'd  thank  you  himself  if  he  had 
the  chance,  but  he  don't  go  anywhere 
much." 

"No,  Jerry's  right,"  affirmed  the 
woman.  "  His  Highness  is  mighty  quiet. 
Ain't  been  down  here  sence,  —  let's  see, 
—  long  before  he  turned  out  the  boys, — 
I  mean,"  she  added  hastily  as  Jerry's  eyes 
flashed  angrily  at  her,  "  sence  the  men 
moved  the  sheep  down  to  the  summer 
range.  Yes,  he's  awful  fond  of  stickin' 
at  home.  I  never  did  see  his  beat. 
He'll  be  a  regular  hermit  before  long  ! 
Now  it  wouldn't  hurt  him  a  bit,  -  - 1 
mean  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  him 
to  get  out  and  see  folks  once  in  a  while. 
Land  sakes  !  I  don't  go  out  much,  my 
self,  but  if  I  didn't  have  anyone  to  talk 
to,  I  don't  know  what'd  ever  become  of 
me!" 

"Well,  I  must  be  movin',"  said  Jerry 

93 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

nervously,  taking  the  package  and  start 
ing  away.  There  was  no  telling  what 
the  woman  might  say  if  permitted  to  talk 
longer  in  that  strain.  The  girl  followed 
him  quietly,  a  faint  trace  of  merriment 
showing  in  her  dark  eyes.  At  the  cor 
ral,  George  Howell  helped  her  to  mount, 
while  Jerry  fastened  the  heavy  bundle 
securely  to  the  back  of  his  saddle. 

"  That  pony  of  yours  is  very  pretty. 
What  do  you  call  it  ? "  Marjie  asked  the 
boy. 

"  Just  *  Lady,'  "  he  answered,  then  con 
tinued  proudly  ;  -  -  "  she  is  pretty  all 
right.  Such  an  even  color  all  over.  At 
night  you  can't  see  her  at  all  unless  you're 
close  up  to  her.  An'  she's  quick  as  a 
flash  of  lightning.  She's  trained  to  do 
tricks,  too.  Want  to  see  her  lay  down  ? 
Here,  Lady,  down ! "  he  said,  going  to 
her  head  and  gently  lowering  it  with  both 
hands.  The  pony  obeyed  with  well- 
trained  quickness  and  grace,  to  the  great 
wonderment  of  Marjie. 

"  How  proud  you  must  be  to  own  it !  ' 
she    exclaimed.      "  I   should   think  you'd 

94 


A   NAMELESS   GIRL  WITH  /  ^  MEMORY. 


be  afraid  that  someone  would  run  away 
with  it." 

"  It  wouldn't  be  healthy  for  anyone  to 
try  it !  Lady  knows  just  as  much  as  any 
one  does,  an'  she'd  find  her  way  back 
home  if  they  took  her  most  anywheres. 
She'll  stay  anywhere  I  put  her,  but  if 
anyone  else  was  to  try  it  she'd  bite  a  rope 
in  two  in  a  minute,  an'  start  on  the  dead 
run  for  home.  No,  I  ain't  much  afraid 
about  losin'  her." 

"  By  the  way,  Jerry,"  gpid  George 
Howell,  as  they  were  about  (  ?  ride  away, 
"  I'd  like  to  have  you  com  j  over  early 
to-morrow  and  go  on  an  eriand  for  me. 
It's  over  on  Milk  River,  and  L  can't  very 
well  go  myself  as  I  have  to  ,'ide  over  to 
the  other  side  of  the  mountains.  Come 
as  early  as  you  can,  so's  to  get  an  early 
start,  for  it'll  take  you  a  good  two  days. 
I'll  give  you  a  better  horse,  and  you  can 
turn  Lady  out  in  the  field  here." 

"  All  right,"  responded  Jerry,  as  they 
rode  away. 

"  My,  but  you  will  have  a  long  ride  ! 
Though  I  am  glad  that  Lady  is  not  to 

95 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

go,"  said  the  girl,  admiring  the  easy, 
graceful  gait  of  the  small  pony.  *'  I'd 
love  to  ride  her.  Would  you  care  if  I 
tried  her  for  a  short  distance  to 
morrow  ? " 

"  Well,  she  ain't  never  been  ridden  by 
a  lady,  but  she's  got  a  heap  of  sense,  an' 
mebbe  if  you're  real  gentle  with  her 
she'd  be  all  right.  But  I'm  kind  of 
afraid.  Hold  on  a  minute,"  he  said,  dis 
mounting.  "  Just  get  on  her  now  an' 
try  her  for  a  ways,  then  she'll  know  it's 
all  right.  I'm  afraid  for  you  to  start  out 
by  yourself." 

"  I've  never  tried  a  man's  saddle," 
she  laughed.  "  But  of  course  it's  the 
proper  way  to  ride.  If  I  like  it,  I  will 
give  my  saddle  to  little  Taggie,  down 
here."  ' 

Jerry  stood  at  the  pony's  head  while 
Marjie  mounted,  then  the  gentle  Lady, 
after  glancing  behind  to  make  sure  of 
her  burden,  started  off  on  an  easy  canter 
with  the  utmost  pride.  Jerry  followed, 
leading  Marjie's  large  saddle  animal, 
then,  perceiving  that  she  was  fast  out- 

96 


A   NAMELESS   GIRL  WITH   A  MEMORY. 

distancing  him,  he  climbed  up  into  the 
girl's  saddle  and  soon  overtook  her.  She 
drew  up  the  gray  pony  as  he  rode  beside 
her,  and  laughed  heartily  at  his  appear 
ance.  When  they  came  in  sight  of  the 
Winters'  white  tent  and  covered  wagons, 
Jerry  asked  her  if  she  wished  to  change 
horses. 

"  No,  I  like  this,  and  I'd  rather  not 
change  ;  —  that  is,  if  you  don't  care." 

He  assured  her  that  he  did  not  in  the 
least,  yet  when  they  stopped  before  the 
tent  and  young  Taggie's  eyes  laughed 
merrily  out  at  him,  he  flushed  until  his 
brow  was  the  same  deep  red  as  his 
cheeks. 

"  How  do  you  do  ? "  said  the  girl,  com 
ing  shyly  out  of  the  tent.  "There  ain't 
anyone  to  home." 

"  Why,  you're  the  one  we  came  to 
see.  Didn't  we,  Jerry  ? "  exclaimed  Mar- 
jie.  "  And  if  you  don't  object,  we'll 
get  down  and  stay  for  a  few  min 
utes." 

"  I'm  not  caring,"  she  answered  in  a 
tone  meant  to  be  polite. 

97 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER   RANCH. 

"  There,  Jerry,  I  felt  sure  that  I  would 
like  a  man's  saddle  the  best.  It's  sim 
ply  fine !  Have  you  a  saddle,  Tag- 
gie?" 

"  No,  nor  a  horse,  neither,"  spoke 
Taggie,  sharply. 

"  Oh  !  "  Marjie's  tone  was  sorrowful. 
"  I've  been  planning  on  lots  of  great 
horseback  rides  with  you.  But  we  can 
fix  that !  Here's  a  saddle  that  I  want  to 
get  rid  of,  and  down  at  my  sister's  is  a 
horse,  —  Sour  Beans.  Such  a  nice  horse 
for  a  beginner.  It's  perfectly  gentle,  and 
no  one  ever  uses  it.  I  learned  to  ride  on 
it."  She  sighed  slightly  at  the  remem 
brance.  "  After  you  learn  to  ride  well, 
we  will  manage  to  find  another  horse  for 
you  and  you  can  give  Sour  Beans  to  one 
of  your  sisters.  Oh,  don't  thank  me ! 
It's  pure  selfishness  on  my  part.  I  want 
you  to  ride  with  me." 

"  We'll  just  have  a  circus  !  "  exclaimed 
Taggie,  nodding  her  curly  head.  "  I  can 
never  have  any  fun  with  Ice,  Snow,  or 
Frost !  If  I  go  anywheres  with  them, 
they  just  hold  up  their  heads  and  say, 

98 


A  NAMELESS   GIRL  WITH    A  MEMORY. 

*  Taggie,  Taggie  ' ;  just  like  this."  The 
girl  screwed  up  her  face  in  a  ridiculous 
imitation  of  her  sisters.  Marjie  laughed 
at  the  quaint  little  creature,  then  asked, 
as  she  followed  her  into  the  tent : 

"  Why  is  it  that  they  didn't  give  you  a 
freezing  name,  too  ?  Is  it  because  you 
were  so  sunny  that  you  thawed  it  ? " 

"  I  ain't  got  any  name,"  answered  the 
young  girl  confidentially.  "  It  was  like 
this  :  Ma  and  Pa  never  could  agree  on  a 
name  for  me.  Pa  wanted  a  name  to  go 
with  the  other  girls',  but  Ma  said  it  was 
scandalous,  an'  said  that  she  wouldn't 
have  any  more  such  nonsense,  that  if  he 
couldn't  give  up  the  idea  an'  name  me 
something  respectable,  that  I'd  just  go 
without  a  name  to  the  longest  day  of  my 
life.  That's  how  it  is  that  I  haven't  a 
name.  The  girls  used  to  holler  '  taggie ' 
after  me  when  I'd  go  to  tag  'em  around, 
an'  somehow  they  all  got  to  callin'  me 
that,  bein*  as  they  had  to  call  me  some 
thing.  I  named  myself  Gladys  Maud  a 
long  time  ago,  but  I  don't  claim  it  now 
because  I  don't  like  it  so  well  any  more. 

99 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

I  think  Marjie  is  the  prettiest  name  that 
I  ever  heard." 

"  That's  because  it's  her  name,"  spoke 
up  Jerry  for  the  first  time.  "It  sounds  to 
me  like  the  name  of  a  queen  or  an  angel. 
But  for  a  girl's  name,  I  like  Taggie  as 
well  as  anything." 

"  Wait,"  said  Marjie,  after  several 
moments'  conversation,  "  I've  got  some 
thing  in  the  pocket  of  my  saddle  for  you, 
Taggie." 

When  the  tent  had  closed  behind  her, 
the  young  girl  leaned  forward  and  spoke 
in  a  low  voice  to  Jerry.  "  Did  you  ever 
play  with  a  little  girl  in  the  woods  behind 
an  old  log  house,  an'  give  her  a  candy 
heart?" 

His  face  flushed  with  earnestness  as  he 
answered,  "  Yes,  I've  never  forgot  it ! 
You're  good  to  remember  it.  And  the 
candy  heart  —  I  suppose  you  ate  it  up 
long  ago  ?  " 

"  No — I'm  —  not  very  fond  of  candy." 

"  Now,    that's     too     bad,"     exclaimed 
Marjie,  entering  the  tent,  "  for  that's  just 
what  I've  brought  to  you." 
100 


A  NAMELESS  GIRL  WITH  A  MEMORY. 

"  I  didn't  mean  all  kinds,"  said  poor 
Taggie,  conscience  stricken.  "  I  only 
meant  one  kind  in  particular  !  "  —  and 
Jerry  treasured  the  girl's  artless  confession 
with  a  feeling  akin  to  awe. 


101 


CHAPTER    XI. 

IT  WAS  ALL   LADY'S  FAULT. 

HAT  next  morning  Jerry  came 
early,  so  very  early,  that  Mar- 
jie,  though  rising  before  her 
usual  hour,  failed  to  see  him 
when  he  started  on  the  errand  for  George 
Howell.  Not  long  after  they  had  break 
fasted,  Howell  left,  also,  going  in  an 
opposite  direction  to  a  point  across  the 
mountains.  So  Marjie  and  the  woman 
were  left  alone.  It  was  a  puzzle  to 
Marjie  where  the  woman  found  so  much 
to  talk  about,  though  in  truth  it  was 
mostly  idle  chatter  with  just  enough  of 
interest  thrown  in  to  make  it  bearable ; 
yet  if  the  girl  tired  of  it,  her  looks  did 
not  betray  the  fact.  In  the  late  after 
noon  when  the  day  began  to  grow  some 
what  cooler,  she  caught  up  Jerry's  pony 
which  he  had  left  in  the  pasture,  and  the 

102 


IT   WAS   ALL    LADY'S    FAULT. 

woman  helped  her  to  saddle  it.  She 
started  out  with  the  intention  of  riding 
over  to  her  new  friends,  the  Winters, 
but  the  cool  green  of  the  mountains 
proved  too  enticing  to  be  resisted,  so  she 
rode  toward  them,  past  the  old  log  cabin, 
then  on  up  into  the  shade  of  the  cool 
timbered  gulch,  thinking  or  caring  little 
about  the  direction  in  which  she  went, 
satiated,  as  it  were,  by  the  glories  of  the 
time  and  place.  "  You  know  this  coun 
try  better  than  I  do,  little  Lady,"  she 
said  aloud  to  the  pony,  "  and  it's  so 
grandly  beautiful  here  that  I  don't  care 
where  we  go,  so  we  will  keep  on  until 
we  get  tired,  and  then  we'll  turn  around 
and  go  back  the  way  we  came.  The 
evenings  of  June  are  long  in  this  north 
ern  country,  so  we  have  all  the  time  we 
want ;  then  if  we  get  lost,  all  we  have  to 
do  is  to  climb  to  the  top  of  one  of  these 
high  hills  and  scan  the  country." 

If  Marjie  had  been  more  familiar  with 
the  ways  of  horses  she  would  have  per 
ceived  that  the  pony  had  quickened  its 
gait  and  was  taking  her  with  careless 

103 


MARJIE  OF  THE  LOWER  RANCH. 

eagerness  over  the  trail  it  had  ofttimes 
trod,  —  the  trail  to  its  home.  But  the 
girl  thought  of  nothing  but  the  delight 
ful  gliding  gait  of  the  small  creature,  the 
invigorating  mountain  air,  and  the  won 
derful  variety  of  beautiful  scenery.  On 
they  went,  over  the  dim  trail  through  the 
timber  which  led  up  the  steep,  rugged 
side  of  the  gulch,  then  down  into  a  wind 
ing,  brush-covered  coulee ;  on  and  on, 
up  a  narrow,  winding  trail  that  was  deeply 
worn  by  the  hoofs  of  the  animals  that 
had  trodden  it  for  ages.  First  the  buf 
falo,  then  the  Indian  ponies  ;  now  the 
range  cattle  and  the  horses  of  the  out 
laws. 

They  came  at  last  to  a  great,  perpen 
dicular  ridge  of  rock  which  loomed 
directly  before  them.  It  seemed  to  Mar- 
jie  that  the  gulch  ended  there,  but  to 
her  surprise  the  pony  kept  up  its  fast  gait, 
turning  to  the  left,  and  following  up 
through  a  little  stream  that  flowed  close 
to  the  foot  of  the  rock.  Again  the  pony 
turned,  and  entered  a  narrow  opening  of 
rock  through  which  gushed  the  small 

104 


IT   WAS   ALL   LADY'S    FAULT. 

creek,  hissing  and  bubbling  like  a  minia 
ture  cataract. 

At  the  sight  of  the  sweet,  fresh  beauty 
of  the  small  valley  stretched  out  before 
her  gaze,  Marjie  held  her  breath  in  won 
derment.  She  wanted  to  stay  there  for 
ever  and  feast  on  the  scene  before  her, 
but  the  pony  thought  differently,  and  the 
girl's  urgent,  "  Whoa,  Lady,"  had  no 
apparent  effect.  It  suddenly  occurred  to 
Marjie's  sense  of  reason  or  intuition  that 
the  pony  was  heading  for  its  home,  and 
that  this  was  its  home.  For  the  moment 
she  was  dumbfounded,  then  laughed  a 
little  uncomfortably  to  herself. 

"  If  only  Jerry  were  here,  I  wouldn't 
mind.  But  imagine  riding  up  to  a  strange 
man's  camp  in  this  fashion!  Whoa,  Lady ! 
Good  Lady  !  Whoa  !  We  will  go  back 
the  way  we  came  !  Whatever  ails  the 
horse ! " 

Marjie's  hand  was  strong  upon  the 
bridle,  but  it  only  resulted  in  the  wilful 
pony's  prancing  about  in  a  circle  and 
standing  like  a  circus  horse  upon  its  hind 
feet.  There  was  no  alternative  but  to  go 

106 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

on.  Perhaps,  after  all,  this  was  not  the 
place.  Vain  hope  !  She  passed  through 
the  screen  of  bushes  quickly,  bending  low 
in  the  saddle  to  prevent  the  branches  from 
striking  her  face.  As  it  was,  her  hat  was 
brushed  off,  her  hair  tumbled  about  her 
face,  and  before  she  could  recover  her 
breath,  the  pony  stopped  suddenly  in 
front  of  a  low  log  cabin. 

A  bronzed  man  loomed  up  before  her, 
looking,  if  anything,  more  surprised  and 
bewildered  than  the  disheveled  girl.  He 
had  been  in  the  act  of  drawing  a  gun 
from  his  belt.  His  hand  still  rested  upon 
its  stock.  The  girl  was  first  to  recover. 
Her  words  came  in  jerks.  "Well, - 
you  —  don't  need  to  shoot !  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  have  no  such 
intention,"  were  the  words  spoken  in 
courtly  fashion,  and  by  a  man  whose  voice 
was  deep,  rich,  and  musical. 

"  But  you  did  have  !  Is  it  customary 
for  people  in  this  part  of  the  country  to 
receive  —  a  —  callers  in  that  fashion  ? 
Not  that  I  intended  to  make  the  first  call, 
—  that  was  Lady's  fault!  I  don't  see 

106 


IT   WAS   ALL    LADY'S    FAULT. 

how  I  ever  got  here  !  I  suppose  you  are 
His  Highness  ?  If  you  don't  mind,  I'd 
like  to  have  a  drink  of  water,  and  I'd 
like  to  get  down  and  fix  my  hair  and  go 
back  after  my  hat.  It's  somewhere  there 
in  the  brush.  I  don't  suppose  that  I'll 
ever  be  able  to  turn  this  obstinate  creature 
around.  It's  all  her  fault !  I  couldn't 
budge  her  !  " 

"  Certainly,  get  down,  if  you  wish. 
You  are  the  —  Margaret,  are  you  not, 
Miss ?  "  said  the  man. 

"  Drop  the  Miss,  if  you  please.  It's  a 
trifle  out  of  place  alongside  of  that !  " 
pointing  to  the  six-shooter  in  his  belt. 
"  My  name  is  Margaret  Navarre,  and  you 
are  Ike.  I  know  all  about  you.  —  You 
are  Jerry's  friend."  She  stood  on  the 
ground  beside  him,  her  rare,  fantastic 
beauty  at  its  height.  There  was  always 
a  touch  of  barbarism  about  her.  Now  a 
certain  excitement  caused  her  strange, 
wild  spirit  to  show  in  her  eyes,  and  it  was 
emphasized  by  her  disheveled  hair  and 
brilliant  coloring.  Until  now  her  life 
had  been  as  quiet  and  peaceful  as  the 

107 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

merest  babe's.  This  was  the  change.  As 
she  looked  at  Ike  she  knew  that  she 
stood  in  the  presence  of  some  great  and 
startling  mystery  ;  a  problem  not  yet 
solved,  of  which  she  felt  herself  to  be  a 
part  and  in  it. 

Something  of  this  came  to  the  man  as 
he  watched  her  braid  together  the  long, 
waving  strands  of  hair,  and  caught  the 
sparkle  of  dark  eyes  and  the  gleam  of 
white  teeth.  Somewhere,  deep  in  his 
conscience,  he  felt  a  fear.  The  sight  of 
so  much  beauty  was  enough  to  make  a 
man  fear ;  but  this  man  was  unselfish. 

He  went  inside  the  house  and  brought 
to  her  a  cup  of  water.  She  took  it  grate 
fully.  As  she  drank,  he  placed  a  box 
beside  her  and  asked  her  to  be  seated.  It 
was  evident  that  he  did  not  wish  her  to 
go  inside  the  house.  It  was  as  well,  she 
thought.  What  a  strange  man  he  was ; 
grim  and  silent,  and  yes, —  ugly, — de 
cidedly  ugly.  A  black  beard  covered 
the  lower  part  of  his  face;  as  for  the 
remainder,  the  features  were  good,  but 
the  dark  eyes  looked  stern  and  moody. 

108 


IT   WAS   ALL    LADY'S    FAULT. 

It  was  an  attractive  but  not  a  pleasant 
face,  and  still  the  girl  felt  no  fear. 

She  seated  herself  upon  the  box  that 
he  had  brought  from  the  cabin,  a  trifle 
dazed,  perhaps.  She  saw  the  man  turn 
about  and  without  a  word  disappear  in 
the  bushes.  She  had  a  moment  or  two 
to  wonder  at  his  action,  then  he  reap 
peared,  bringing  her  hat. 

"  Here  is  your  hat,"  he  said  quietly, 
as  he  handed  it  to  her.  "  I  fear  Lady 
has  been  rather  rude  to  you." 

"  It's  all  my  own  fault,"  answered 
Marjie.  "  I  ought  to  have  known  that 
the  horse  was  going  straight  home ;  but 
it  never  occurred  to  me  until  we  were 
inside  here,  then  I  couldn't  turn  her 
back.  I  wish  Jerry  were  here  !  ' 

"  I  wish  so,  myself,"  said  the  man 
coolly.  His  tone  implied  more  than  the 
words,  but  Marjie  ignored  it,  saying :  — 
"  You  must  get  terribly  lonesome  up 
here  when  he  is  away.  Are  you  all 
alone?" 

"  I  have  the  pleasure  of  your  company, 
just  now." 

109 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

"  Oh,  I  am  greatly  complimented  !  I 
wasn't  at  all  certain  before  that  it  was 
a  pleasure  to  you.  I  feel  very  much 
relieved  !  " 

He  noted  the  sarcasm  of  her  words 
and  replied  :  "  I  shouldn't  like  to  have 
you  feel  uncomfortable  while  you  are 
here.  Just  as  soon  as  you  want  to  go,  I 
will  see  that  Lady  starts  out  with  you. 
She  will  take  you  back  promptly." 

Marjie  leaned  her  elbow  on  her  knee, 
resting  her  chin  in  the  hollow  of  her 
hand.  She  looked  up  at  him  with  an 
expression  half  quizzical,  half  amused. 
Here  was  a  master  mind,  and  she  revelled 
in  the  realization  ;  yet  she  would  not 
capitulate.  "  Do  you  know  that  you  are 
,  very  rude  to  me,  after  riding  all  this  way 
to  find  you  ? "  she  suggested  archly. 
"  You  are  anxious  to  have  me  go  away. 
Well,  I  will  return  rudeness  with  rude 
ness.  I  am  not  ready  to  go  back  just 
this  minute,  and  I  am  not  going." 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  Marjie  pouted. 

The  man's  expression  changed.  He 
procured  a  box  for  himself,  such  as  he 

no 


IT   WAS   ALL    LADY'S    FAULT. 

had  given  Marjie,  and  seated  himself 
opposite  her.  When  he  spoke  again,  his 
voice  was  friendly  and  low,  attuned  to 
tears  that  would  not  come :  "  Do  you 
know  you  are  the  first  girl  that  I  have 
talked  with  in  ten  years  ?  If  I  have  been 
uncivil  to  you,  pardon  me.  You  must 
not  blame  one  so  far  outside  the  pale  of 
—  your  world,  — yourself.  Those  maga 
zines  that  you  sent  me  were  a  god-send. 
You,  yourself,  have  come  like  a  ray  of 
sunlight  into  a  darkened  dungeon.  In 
my  heart  I  am  not  so  unkind.  Will  you 
believe  me  ? " 

"Yes,  —  I  believe  you,"  answered  the 
girl,  as  though  bewildered,  "  but  I  don't 
understand  you.  Surely  I  must  be  very 
stupid.  There  are  so  many  things  around 
here,  lately,  that  I  do  not  understand. 
Do  you  ever  have  dreams?'* 

"Dreams?  Yes,"  said  the  man,  "night 
mares  !  Why  ? " 

"  Because,   when    I   see   things    that   I 
can't  understand,  I  call  them  dreams.      I 
have  had  several  dreams,  and  this  is  one. 
But  I  never  tell  my  dreams." 
111 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

He  looked  at  her  curiously.  "  When 
your  dreams  have  been  made  clear  to 
you,  —  what  then  ?  " 

"Then  I  will  have  become  a  dream." 

"  You  are  a  queer  girl,"  mused  the 
man,  as  clasping  his  hands  together  and 
resting  his  arms  upon  his  knees,  he  leaned 
forward,  studying  her  face. 

"  Yes  ;  but  you  understand  me.  That 
is,  you  understand  what  I  am  talking 
about,  —  and  I  don't.  I  am  groping 
about  in  the  dark,  but  there  is  always  a 
light,  you  know,  and  I  am  going  to  find 


it." 


"  I  think,"  he  said  slowly,  as  a  look  of 
comprehension  flashed  across  his  brow, 
"  that  you've  got  things  mixed.  You 
are  in  the  light  and  what  you  are  trying 
to  grope  for  is  darkness.  When  you  find 
it,  keep  out  of  it ;  as  you  love  those  who 
love  you,  keep  out  of  it." 

A  slight  shiver  passed  over  her.  She 
rose  to  her  feet.  All  at  once  she  seemed 
to  have  grown  older  and  taller.  She  felt 
that  her  view,  her  very  soul,  had  ex 
panded.  Then  with  a  sigh,  she  said : 

112 


IT   WAS   ALL    LADY'S   FAULT. 

"  I  never  thought  of  that  before. 
Thank  you  for  telling  me.  I  understand, 
—  a  little.  I  must  go  back  now.  You 
don't  think  it  rude  of  me  to  come  here 
like  this,  even  though  I  couldn't  help  it, 
— do  you  ? "  As  though  suddenly  aroused, 
she  concluded  :  "  It  doesn't  really  matter 
what  you  think,  though/'  Then  turn 
ing  to  the  pony,  "  Ah,  Lady,  you  played 
us  a  fine  trick  !  " 

His  Highness  led  the  pony  to  the 
opening  of  rocks,  then  placing  the  bridle 
reins  in  Marjie's  hands,  said :  "  Don't 
worry  about  finding  your  way  home. 
Lady  understands  that  she  is  to  take 
you  there,  and  I  know  that  you  will 
reach  it  safely,  else  I  should  accompany 
you/' 

"  Thank  you,"  she  answered ;  then, 
reaching  out  her  hand  to  the  man,  said 
simply :  "  I  think,  after  all,  that  I  like 
you.  You  have  been  honest  with  me. 
Will  you,  —  do  you  care  to  be  friends  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  answered,  stepping  back 
from  the  outstretched  hand.  "  No,  I 
thank  you." 


,     4" 

113 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

She  still  held  her  hand  out  to  him, 
astonished  by  what  he  had  said.  Then 
like  a  flash  it  went  to  her  side,  a  strange 
look  crossed  her  face,  and  she  said  almost 
inaudibly  as  she  moved  away,  "As  you 
like!"  ' 


114 


CHAPTER    XII. 

A    REVELATION    OF    A    DARK    SHADE. 

.EORGE  Howell  returned  late 
that  night,  and  again  Marjie 
heard  men's  voices  outside  the 
house,  and  from  the  small 
window  watched  a  light  in  the  bunk- 
house.  She  had  returned  from  her  ride 
before  dark,  and  pleading  weariness  to 
the  woman,  had  retired  at  once.  There 
was  no  desire  for  sleep,  so  alive  were  her 
thoughts,  yet  in  an  incredibly  short  time 
she  was  in  the  embrace  of  youth's  sweet 
slumber.  Since  that  first  night  she  had 
kept  the  window  open,  so  now  the  sounds 
came  plainly,  waking  her  without  a  start 
or  a  thought  of  surprise. 

"  You  are    groping    for   the    darkness. 
When  you  find  it,  keep  out  of  it." 

The  words  which  the  man  had  spoken 
repeated    themselves   many  times   in   her 

115 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

mind.  She  understood  the  import  of 
them,  although  she  was  ignorant  of  their 
full  meaning.  Who  was  this  man  that 
had  so  strongly  advised  her  ?  Was  he 
robber,  villain,  or  murderer,  that  he  hid 
from  the  sight  of  people  and  feared  the 
approach  of  a  stranger  ?  Or  had  some 
great  sorrow  or  trouble  driven  him  there, 
away  from  the  haunts  of  men  ?  And 
this  "darkness"?  —  She  knew  that  he 
had  meant  badness  as  though  he  had  used 
the  word. 

"  When  you  find  it,  keep  out  of 
it." 

It  had  sounded  like  a  command  from 
the  lips  of  one  whose  every  utterance  had 
a  value.  But  how  was  she  to  keep  out 
of  it  when  she  was  already  in  it  ?  When 
she  had  thrown  her  life  among  people 
whose  actions  were  not  to  be  questioned  ? 
What  were  they,  robbers  or  highway 
men  ?  She  thought  the  days  of  high 
waymen  were  a  matter  of  past  history. 
Then  it  could  not  be  that.  Train- 
robbers,  perhaps,  or  even  ordinary  thieves. 
And  this  man,  His  Highness,  must  be  the 

116 


A   REVELATION    OF  A  DARK    SHADE. 

leader.  But  what  of  George  Howell  and 
of  these  men  who  came  around  his  house 
in  the  night  time,  of  whom  no  word  was 
spoken  ?  It  must  be,  she  argued  to  her 
self,  that,  living  as  he  did  so  near  them, 
and  so  far  out  of  civilization,  he  was 
obliged  to  be  on  friendly  terms  with  them 
to  protect  himself.  Her  thoughts  there 
in  the  darkness  of  her  room  were  live 
things,  and  the  man's  words  kept  repeat 
ing  themselves  to  her.  Surely  he  did 
not  think  that  she,  a  girl,  would  have 
any  desire  to  become  one  of  them  !  No, 
certainly,  he  could  not  have  meant  that. 
What,  then  ?  Why,  how  stupid  she  had 
been  !  He  meant,  of  course,  that  she 
was  to  keep  out  of  it,  —  to  know  nothing, 
see  nothing,  and  to  remember  nothing. 
Then  the  sharp  report  of  a  gun  broke 
the  stillness,  and  also  the  even  chain  of 
her  thoughts.  She  quivered  a  moment 
from  the  start  it  gave  her,  then  she  rose 
and  hurriedly  dressed.  She  had  no  desire 
for  more  sleep  that  night. 

Not     long     afterward,    a     low    knock 
sounded   on    her   door.      It    startled    her 

117 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

more  than  the  shot  had  done,  but  she  an 
swered  directly  and  clearly,  "  What  is 
it?" 

"  I  was  afraid  that  the  shot  might 
have  woke  you  up  and  frightened  you, 
so  I  thought  I'd  come  and  tell  you  that 
some  men  are  stopping  in  the  bunk-house 
and  one  of  their  guns  went  off  by  acci 
dent.  I'm  sorry  that  you've  been  dis 
turbed  !  " 

It  was  George  Howell.  There  was  a 
sound  of  tender  concern  in  his  voice, 
which  touched  and  warmed  the  nervous, 
lonely  girl.  She  walked  over  to  the  door 
that  he  might  hear  more  plainly  while 
she  spoke.  As  she  crossed  the  uncar- 
peted  floor  he  heard  the  sound  of  her 
shoes. 

"  Why,  you're  dressed  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
quickly. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Marjie.  "  It  did 
make  me  a  little  nervous,  and  I  went  to 
bed  so  early  that  I've  had  my  sleep  out, 
so  I  thought  that  I  might  as  well  get  up 
and  dress." 

"  Come  out,"  said    Howell.      "  I   was 

118 


A    REVELATION   OF  A   DARK    SHADE. 

just  going  to  hunt  for  something  to  eat. 
Aren't  you  hungry  ? " 

Marjie  came  into  the  large  living- 
room.  The  man  set  down  the  lamp 
that  he  had  been  holding  and  turned  to 
look  at  her. 

"  I'm  not  hungry,"  she  said,  "  but 
perhaps  I  will  be  if  I  watch  you  eat. 
Didn't  you  have  your  supper  ?  Where  is 
Mrs.  Howell,--Lil?" 

He  pointed  to  an  adjoining  room. 
"  There,  asleep." 

"  It  seems  strange,"  said  the  girl  won- 
deringly,  "  that  the  shot  did  not  waken 
her,  or  that  our  talking  does  not." 

"  Oh,  she's  a  pretty  heavy  sleeper,  - 
sometimes,"    said    George   Howell,  in    a 
peculiar  tone  of  roice. 

Marjie  did  not  answer,  and  silence 
fell  for  a  time.  Then  through  the  half- 
open  door  of  the  bedroom,  came  the 
sound  of  heavy  breathing,  intermixed 
with  snoring.  Again  the  girl  wished 
that  Jerry  were  there,  but  this  time  she 
did  not  put  her  thoughts  into  words. 
How  could  the  woman  sleep  so  ?  Then 
119 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

upon  the  close  air  of  the  room  came 
the  unmistakable  odor  of  whiskey.  Had 
the  man  been  drinking,  or,  —  could  it  be 
possible  that  the  woman,  —  bah  !  The 
girl's  face  reddened  suddenly.  A  feel 
ing  that  she  must  get  away  and  out 
into  the  air,  or  she  would  strangle,  over 
powered  her.  She  went  to  the  door  and 
opened  it  wide,  standing  there  with  the 
light  of  the  new  moon  shining  faintly 
upon  her  head. 

What  sort  of  a  den  was  this  that  she 
had  entered  in  all  innocence  ?  She  would 
leave  it  at  once  and  go  back  to  her  sweet 
sister,  away  from  this  terrible  dream  that 
disturbed  her  sleep  and  filled  her  waking 
hours  with  perplexity. 

His  Highness  had  been  right.  Yes, 
she  would  keep  out  of  it  and  get  out 
of  it.  It  would  seem  an  endless  time 
to  her  before  daybreak.  If  she  could 
only  start  out  now  !  Oh,  the  infamy, 
the  lowness,  the  wretchedness  of  it 
all! 

She  turned  suddenly  and  faced  the  man 
who  had  drawn  near.  The  look  in  her 
120 


A   REVELATION    OF   A   DARK    SHADE. 

face,  the  flash  of  her  eyes  cowed  him. 
He  became  as  white  as  herself. 

"  Tell  me  what  ails  her !  "  she  de 
manded,  pointing  with  outstretched  arm 
toward  the  room  where  the  woman  slept. 

Howell  moved  back  a  step,  but  did 
not  speak.  She  drew  nearer  to  him,  still 
pointing. 

"  Why  don't  you  speak  ?  Why  haven't 
you  an  answer  ready  for  me  ?  You  are  a 
coward  !  Yes,  worse,  to  bring  a  girl  to 
a  hole  like  this,  —  to  such  a  life  !  Stand 
aside  !  I  will  see  for  myself,  since  you 
are  afraid  to  speak  !  5I  So  great  was  the 
passion  condensed  within  her  heart  that 
her  whole  body  quivered  with  it,  but  her 
voice  was  clear. 

It  seemed  hours  to  the  man  before  she 
came  out  of  the  room,  though  it  was  in 
reality  but  a  very  few  seconds.  She 
walked  past  him,  out  into  the  night. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ? "  asked  the 
man  in  alarm,  quickly  following  her. 

"  Out  into  the  air  where  I  can  breathe  ! 
To  wait  for  daylight  so  that  I  can  go 
away  ! 

121 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

He  caught  her,  almost  fiercely,  by  the 
arm. 

"  In  God's  name,  girl,  wait !  Don't 
leave  like  this  !  Don't  feel  so  about  it ! 
Let  me  explain.  I  never  dreamed  that 
she  would  do  this  while  you  were  here, 
or  that  you  would  know  anything  about 
it.  It  shames  me  more  than  I  can  tell 
you,  for  I  am  all  to  blame.  I  should 
never  have  had  you  come  here ;  Tom 
would  never  have  allowed  it  if  he'd 
known,  but  he  don't.  We've  never  been 
together  much,  and  somehow,  I've  always 
kept  it  from  him.  Listen,  —  you  will 
try  to  forgive  me,  to  think  better  of  me 
when  I've  told  you,  —  when  I've  made 
you  understand.  If  you  could  know  the 
life  I've  led,  year  after  year,  —  if  you 
could  know  it  all,  you  wouldn't  wonder 
that  when  I  saw  you  in  all  your  girlish 
sweetness  I  longed  to  have  you  near  me. 
Why  shouldn't  I  have  you  for  a  sister,  as 
Tom  did?  —  I,  who  have  only  curses  for 
my  lot  ?  So  I  thought  you'd  never  know 
the  worst  of  things  here.  But  I  know 
that  you  are  different,  —  better,  that  you 

122 


A   REVELATION    OF  A   DARK   SHADE. 

never  dreamed  of  such  degradation.  I 
alone  am  to  blame,  but  I  swear  I  thought 
to  keep  the  thing  from  you.  Try  to 
forgive  me,  —  to  forget  my  miserable 
existence  !  I  wanted  you  so,  little  girl, 
little  —  sister  !  " 

His  voice  broke.  A  quivering  came 
over  the  girl's  face.  She  turned  to  him, 
a  sob  coming  with  her  breath. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,  so  sorry  !  I  never 
knew,  —  I  never  thought  !  Forgive  me 
for  my  anger  and  my  hasty  words  !  I 
never  realized  that  such  wretchedness 
existed  here,  —  that  you  suffered  such  a 
miserable  life  !  I  have  been  selfish,  think 
ing  only  of  myself.  I'm  so  sorry  for  it 
all !  If  you  care  to  have  me  stay  longer 
after  what  I  have  said,  then  I  will  stay." 

"  If  I  care  !  "   pleaded  Howell. 

"  Then  come  to  the  kitchen  and  we 
will  make  a  hunt  for  something  to  eat. 
After  all,"  said  Marjie  as  she  led  the  way, 
"  there  is  much  forgetfulness  in  eating. 
To-morrow  this  will  be  a  dream." 


123 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

BACK    TO    THE     DREAM     SCENES    AGAIN. 

DDLY  enough,  before  realiz 
ing  it  herself,  Marjie  became 
used  to  it  all.  The  people 
were  good-natured,  kind  to 
her,  and  she  told  herself  that  their 
morals  were  their  own  affairs.  George 
Howell  had  never  referred  to  that  night's 
scene,  and  so  far  as  the  girl's  actions  were 
concerned,  she  might  have,  in  all  truth, 
forgotten  the  whole  circumstance.  But 
the  man,  who  had  seen  a  revelation  in 
her  passion,  knew  better. 

He  had  taken  the  surest,  quickest  way 
to  Marjie's  affection  when  he  touched 
her  compassion,  —  the  most  responsive 
part  of  her  nature. 

Howell  possessed  a  rare  way  of  hiding 
all  his  weak  points  and  bringing  out  into 

124 


BACK    TO    THE    DREAM    SCENES. 

notice  only  the  best  part  of  himself.  In 
time  Marjie  grew  to  love  him,  even 
better  than  she  did  Tom,  simply  because 
he  needed  the  love.  She  remained  in 
the  mountains  two  days  longer,  then  re 
turned  to  the  prairie,  and  to  Kitty  and 
the  babies. 

As  the  early  summer  passed  by,  and 
July  came  with  its  hot  winds,  she 
grew  daily  more  restless,  taking  long 
rides  by  herself  far  away  from  the  ranch. 
Her  sister  was  making  preparations  to  go 
to  Salt  Lake.  Tom  had  some  business 
which  would  take  him  there,  and  as  Kitty 
was  in  delicate  health,  he  concluded  that 
it  would  be  best  to  take  her  with  him. 
He  would  procure  a  nurse,  take  a  run 
back  to  the  ranch  and  look  after  things  a 
bit,  then  return  to  Salt  Lake  and  remain 
there  until  Fall.  It  was  the  city  of 
Kitty's  early  youth,  where  many  of  her 
girlhood  friends  resided.  Marjie  had 
been  taken  away  from  there  by  her 
father's  sister  when  she  was  so  young  a 
child  that  no  memory  of  the  place  or 
tho  people  remained.  She  could  go  there 

125 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER   RANCH. 

with  Kitty  and  the  babies,  or  stay  in  the 
mountains  until  their  return. 

She  scarcely  hesitated  in  her  choice, 
nor  did  a  single  misgiving  come  to  her, 
or  a  foreboding  that  she  had  chosen  un 
wisely.  She  would  go  to  the  mountains. 

When  the  time  came,  and  she  had 
said  good-by  to  Kitty  and  Tom  and  the 
babies,  and  started  off  alone  toward  the 
mountains,  she  felt  like  an  imprisoned 
soul  set  free.  For  the  time  she  was  mad 
for  the  heights,  the  mysteries,  and  the 
uncertainties  of  the  untried  darkness.  Her 
soul  sang  a  wild  song  that  day.  The 
red  ribbon  wound  with  abandon  about 
the  broad-brimmed  hat  was  not  redder 
than  her  cheeks.  Her  coloring  was  gor 
geous.  Upon  her  wonderfully  changing 
face,  where  every  feeling  showed  itself, 
the  deep,  steady  red  was  but  the  reflection 
of  the  fire  that  burned  within.  But  she 
did  not  stop,  nor  try,  nor  care  to  analyze 
herself. 

She  did  not  know,  and  knowing  would 
not  have  cared,  that  to  the  people  who 
came  out  to  meet  her  as  she  rode  up  to 


BACK   TO   THE    DREAM    SCENES. 

the  ranch-house  in  the  mountains,  she 
appeared  too  gorgeously  beautiful  to  be 
real.  George  Howell  scarcely  spoke  as 
he  took  her  horse,  but  Jerry  came  up 
and  welcomed  her  warmly,  and  Taggie, 
who  happened  to  be  there  on  an  errand, 
threw  her  arms  about  her  neck  and 
kissed  her  many  times.  To  her,  Marjie 
was  a  beautiful  reality. 

It  was  fortunate  that  Mrs.  Howell  did 
not  try  to  embrace  her,  for  Marjie  drew 
back  unconsciously  at  the  mere  touch 
of  her  hand.  Kisses  were  somewhat  out 
of  the  woman's  experience,  but  she  made 
up  for  that,  and  for  everything  else,  by 
her  profuse  use  of  words.  As  Taggie's 
mother  had  remarked,  after  she  first  met 
her  :  "  She's  the  out-talkinest  woman  that 
ever  lived.  She'll  talk  till  she's  black  in 
the  face  !  " 

She  did  not  talk  this  time  until  she 
reached  that  condition,  for  Taggie,  for 
getful  of  manners,  was  laughing  and 
chatting  in  her  quaint  way,  regardless  of 
the  immense  woman  behind  her  who  had 
launched  out  in  a  long-winded  recital. 

127 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

The  young  girl  had  long  since  forgot 
ten  her  bashfulness. 

"  That  new  horse,  Dandy,  is  fine.  Its 
name  just  suits  it.  See,  I  rode  Sour  Beans 
this  time  to  save  my  Dandy.  I  can  stand 
him  all  right  for  short  distances.  Oh,  I 
am  so  glad  !  And  you  are  going  to  stay 
all  summer  long  !  I  was  here  when  your 
things  come  yesterday, — Jerry  and  rne, — 
and  I  just  jumped  right  up  in  the  air  and 
hollered,  an'  Jerry  threw  his  hat  up  so 
high  that  he  came  near  never  finding  it 
again  in  the  weeds.  We  found  out  that 
you'd  be  here  to-day,  so  that's  how  I 
managed  to  be  here.  I'd  'a'  broke  my 
neck  to  'a'  got  here,  but  Ma  sent  me  after 
some  flaxseed.  You  see,  Frost  got  a  big 
sliver  in  her  hand,  an'  she's  been  making 
the  awfulest  fuss  about  it !  So  I  looked 
real  serious  last  night,  and  said  I  was  ter 
rible  worried  about  it,  because  such  a 
thing  as  blood-poisoning  might  happen 
from  such  a  thing,  an'  it  was  sure 
death.  I  knew  Ma  was  out  of  flaxseed, 
but  she'd  forgot,  an'  spoke  up  real  quick, 
'  You  must  put  a  flaxseed  poultice  on  that 

128 


BACK    TO    THE    DREAM    SCENES. 

this  very  minute,  Frostie  !  '  '  Yes,'  said 
Frost,  *  but  there  ain't  no  flaxseed  !  '  Then 
Ma  says  to  me,  '  You  ride  right  over  to 
Howell's  an'  borrow  some.'  '  But,'  says  I, 
'  Ma,  I've  just  been  there  an'  it's  dark 
now,  an'  I  ain't  exactly  afraid  of  the 
dark,  but  you  don't  want  your  little  girl 
to  ride  around  this  strange  country,  after 
night  time,  do  you  ?  What  if  I'd  run 
onto  an  outlaw,  or  a  horsethief  ?  What 
then  ? '  That'll  bring  Ma  every  time.  So 
she  said  I  should  go  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning.  But  I  kept  hanging  around 
an'  puttin'  it  off  till  I  thought  it  was 
most  time  for  you  to  be  comin'  along, 
then  I  hurried  up  an'  come  after  the  flax- 
seed.  So  you  see,  that's  how  it  is  !  " 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  and  happy  that  I  am 
here ;  glad  and  happy  !  "  said  Marjie  as 
she  entered  the  cool  ranch-house. 


129 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

WHAT    DID     MARJIE     KNOW    ABOUT 
HIS    DISPOSITION  ? 

was  noon  before  the  artful 
Taggie  departed  with  the  flax- 
seed.  Marjie,  at  last  remem 
bering  the  girl's  errand,  turned 
to  her  from  the  trunk  which  she  was 
unpacking  and  remarked  :  — 

"Aren't  you  afraid  that  blood-poison 
ing  will  really  set  in,  or  that  Frost  will 
worry  herself  to  death  while  waiting  for 
that  flaxseed  ? " 

"  I  guess  she  can  find  the  way  down 
here  if  it's  that  bad,"  answered  Taggie 
heartlessly.  "  No,  I  ain't  much  afraid, 
but  I'd  forgot  all  about  what  I  come  for. 
I  suppose,  though,  I'd  better  be  going 
back  or  Mrs.  Howell'll  be  givin'  me  an 
invite  for  dinner.  I  can  smell  it,  an'  I'm 
mighty  hungry  !  ' 

130 


WHAT    DID    MARJIE    KNOW? 

"  You'd  better  stop  thinking  and  make 
a  start  instead,"  advised  Marjie.  "  Of 
course  you  know  that  I'd  perfectly  love 
to  have  you  stay  all  day,  only  I  am  afraid 
that  the  wrath  of  your  parents  will  affect 
me  as  well  as  yourself.  I  want  to  be  on 
the  good  side  of  them  because  I  expect 
to  wheedle  them  out  of  your  company 
a  great  deal  of  the  time  this  summer. 
Then,  too,  I  am  really  sorry  for  Frost, 
and  I  think  you  are  a  very  bad  girl. 
Now  really,  couldn't  you  have  managed 
to  come  to-day  without  working  the 
thing  on  those  lines  ?  You  know  the 
imagination  is  a  great  factor  in  any  sick 
ness  or  trouble.  You  shouldn't  have 
done  it.  Now,  she  might  imagine  that 
she  had  blood-poisoning  to  such  an  extent 
that  the  suffering  and  effect  would  be  as 
great  as  though  she  really  did  have  it. 
Scientists  say  that  a  person  may  actually 
die  through  the  mere  belief  that  they 
are  suffering  some  fatal  illness." 

A  mischievous  light  shone  in  Marjie's 
eyes  as  she  made  this  impressive  assertion, 
but  the  younger  girl  did  not  see  it.  She 

131 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 


rose  to  her  feet,  looking  rather  frightened 
and  uncomfortable,  and  said  :  "  I  guess 
I'd  better  be  going  back.  Say,  I'm  kind 
of  sorry  that  I  done  it  that  way  ;  but  I 
never  thought  about  the  imagination  be 
fore.  You  don't  suppose,  really,  that  it'll 
make  any  difference,  do  you  ?  -  -  That 
she'll  get  any  worse?' 

"  I  couldn't  tell,  of  course,"  answered 
Marjie,  as  she  went  out  of  the  room  with 
Taggie ;  "  but  you  don't  want  her  to 
feel  uncomfortable,  do  you  ?  Of  course 
I  know  you  don't,  but  you  are  thought 
less,  like  myself.  I  think  thoughtlessness 
is  the  greatest  fault  that  most  people  have 
to  fight  against,  and  it  is  the  most  diffi 
cult  to  overcome.  At  least,  I  have  found 
it  that  way.  One's  memory  is  so  apt  to 
be  faulty  in  little  things,  and  then  we  are 
all  so  selfish." 

"  You  talk  like  a  missionary  woman  I 
heard  once  down  in  Idaho.  She  used  to 
preach  on  the  reservation,  and  sometimes 
she'd  preach  to  the  white  folks  around 
there.  You  ought  to  be  a  preacher  !  " 

"  Me, —  a  preacher  !  "  exclaimed  Mar- 

132 


WHAT    DID    MARJIE    KNOW? 

jie,  as  she  stood  at  the  head  of  the  old 
horse  while  Taggie  climbed  into  the 
saddle.  "  I  am  afraid  that  you  haven't 
been  to  many  'preachings,'  little  Taggie. 
But  as  for  me  being  a  missionary  or  any 
thing  of  that  sort,  —  why,  I  am  not  good 
enough  !  Though  it  is  true  that  we  all 
ought  to  be  missionaries  in  our  own  little 
way.  Here  comes  Jerry  with  his  pony. 
He  probably  wants  to  ride  home  with 
you." 

"Mercy,  no!"  exclaimed  Taggie.  "If 
Pa  caught  me  ridin'  with  him  he  would 
n't  let  me  go  out  again  for  a  month  of 
Sundays  !  " 

"  Is  your  father  prejudiced  against 
young  men,  or  just  this  one  in  par 
ticular?" 

"  Oh,  Jerry  ain't  a  young  man.  He's 
just  a  boy.  An'  Pa's  kind  of  funny, 
that's  all." 

"  Hello,  goin'  home  now  ?  "  questioned 
Jerry,  riding  up  to  them.  Taggie  nodded 
her  head  in  reply,  then  with  a  brief 
good-by  to  Marjie,  she  gave  the  old 
horse  a  lash  with  her  quirt,  causing  Sour 

133 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 


Beans  to  start  off  on  a  somewhat  livelier 
gait  than  usual.  "  I'm  goin',  too,"  re 
marked  the  boy  to  Marjie.  "  I  ought  to 
'a'  gone  a  long  time  ago.  Ike  ain't  feelin' 
well." 

"  Oh,  I  have  some  books  and  papers 
for  him.  Will  you  take  them  up  there 
with  you  ?  I  will  get  them  now.  They 
are  all  fastened  up  in  one  package  and 
you  can  carry  them  easily  on  your  saddle." 

Jerry  led  the  pony  up  to  the  door 
while  Marjie  went  into  the  house  for  the 
package.  She  brought  it  out  to  him 
and  watched  him  as  he  fastened  it  to  his 
saddle, 

"  Did  you  say  that  your  friend  was  not 
well  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  sudden  remem 
brance  of  what  he  had  said. 

"  Yes ;  he  stayed  up  at  the  Find  until 
long  after  dark  last  night,  an'  when  he 
come  in  he  didn't  eat  no  supper,  an'  went 
right  to  bed,  saying  that  he  didn't  feel 
very  well.  He  hadn't  got  up  when  I 
left  this  morning,  so  I  don't  know  how 
he  is  to-day.  Ike  works  too  hard.  He 
looked  like  a  ghost  when  he  come  in 

134 


WHAT    DID    MARJIE    KNOW? 

last  night.  He  ain't  never  been  sick, 
though,  that  I  know  of,  but  I've  been 
feelin'  kind  of  anxious  about  him  all  the 
morning,  as  though  I'd  ought  to  be  at 
home." 

"  Here's  luck  to  you,"  said  the  girl, 
waving  her  hand  to  him  as  he  rode  away. 
"  When  you  get  home  you  will  find  your 
friend  well, — and  as  pleasant  as  usual." 
This  last  was  added  in  a  low  tone. 

Howell,  who  had  come  to  tell  her  that 
dinner  was  ready,  laughed  slightly,  as  he 
asked : 

"  And  what  do  you  know  about  his 
friend's  disposition,  little  Marjie  ? " 

Marjie  was  not  little.  It  must  have 
been  her  youthfulness  that  impressed 
people  in  that  manner.  She  turned 
quickly  and  looked  at  the  man  to  learn 
if  he  had  any  suspicion  that  she  knew 
from  personal  observation.  He  noticed 
nothing  but  the  deep  color  of  her  lips 
and  cheeks,  and  the  brightness  of  her 
eyes.  She  answered  quickly  : 

"  I  know  very  little  about  this  man,  — 
his  friend,  -  -  but  I  am  under  the  impres 
ts 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

sion  that  he  is  an  imbittered,  sour,  cynical 
man,  —  old  and  disagreeable.  Am  I 
right  ?  Don't  you  ever  conceive  impres 
sions  of  people  whom  you  have  never  — 
met  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  I  do ;  but  somehow 
I  thought  you  must  have  seen  him  when 
you  spoke  like  that." 

"  Are  my  impressions  so  near  right, 
then?"  questioned  Marjie,  watching  him 
closely.  She  could  not  tell  how  much 
he  knew.  His  Highness  might  have 
told  someone  of  her  visit  there.  Why 
should  he  not  have  done  so  ?  Yet  with 
the  thought  came  the  certain  conviction 
that  he  had  not  done  so.  When  Howell 
spoke  again,  she  knew  for  a  certainty 
that  her  visit  to  the  camp  was  a  secret 
between  that  strange  man  and  herself. 

"  You're  right  in  some  respects,"  he 
answered.  "  He  ain't  always  the  pleas- 
antest  man  in  the  world.  Rather  set  in 
his  ways.  But  he  ain't  exactly  an  old 
man,  —  not  exactly.  In  fact,  I  can  re 
member  when  he  wras  almost  a  beardless 
boy.  But  he's  got  a  bad  reputation,  and 

136 

»-   -  a* 


WHAT    DID    MARJIE    KNOW? 

he  isn't  the  kind  of  a  man  that  you  would 
care  to  meet." 

"  No,   I   never   care  to   meet    him  ;  - 
decidedly  not !      But  what  is  he,  or  what 
has  he  done  to.deserve  a  bad  reputation  ?  " 

"  Well,  he's  supposed  to  be  an  enemy 
of  the  law,  —  a  fugitive.  In  this  country 
we  call  them  outlaws.  I  say  he's  supposed 
to  be,  but  there's  no  man  would  want  to 
get  up  in  court  and  swear  to  it.  And,  of 
course,  you  know  that  what  I  tell  you  is 
in  strict  confidence." 

"  Then  there  is  a  doubt ;  —  you  are 
not  sure  that  the  man  is  an  outlaw  ? " 

The  girl  was  following  him  too  closely. 
He  would  rather  she  had  accepted  what 
he  told  her  without  a  question,  taking 
his  first  assertion  as  conclusive  truth,  and 
think  no  more  of  the  matter,  or  of  the 
man. 

"No  one  is  ever  sure  of  anything,"  he 
said  shortly.  "  I've  been  sent  to  tell  you 
that  dinner  is  on  the  table.  I  suppose 
you're  ready  for  it  after  your  long  ride. 
You  don't  know  how  glad  I  am  to  have 
you  here,  my  little  Mar — ,  little  sister. 

137 


MARJIE  OF  THE  LOWER  RANCH. 

I  want  you  to  have  a  good  time  all  the 
while.  You  can  ride  horseback  any  time 
you  want  to,  and  I'll  keep  up  a  horse  for 
you  in  the  small  pasture  so  you  can  get  it 
whenever  you  want  to  go,  without  any 
trouble.  I  want  you  to  feel  that  this  is 
your  own  home,  and  that  you  can  have 
what  you  want,  and  go  where  you  want 
to." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  said  Marjie. 
"  You  need  not  fear  but  that  I  will  do  as 
I  like,  for  that  is  my  nature,  and  I  know 
that  I  will  have  one  long,  happy  time." 


138 


CHAPTER    XV. 

THE    WORK    OF    A    COWARD. 

HAT  evening  Marjie,  whom 
nothing  really  tired,  caught 
up  her  horse  and  started  up 
the  road  to  see  if  Taggie  had 
indeed  worked  any  bad  results  by  play 
ing  upon  her  sister's  imagination.  She 
had  gone  perhaps  half  a  mile  to  where 
the  road  leading  to  the  Winters'  new 
ranch  branched  off  from  the  main  trail, 
when  she  saw  in  the  distance  ahead  of 
her,  Jerry's  gray  Lady  coming  at  break 
neck  speed,  the  horse  and  rider  just  visible 
through  a  cloud  of  dust  which  the  little 
animal's  hoofs  raised. 

Marjie  waited  at  the  side  of  the  road, 
and  when  Jerry  saw  her,  he  reined  up 
suddenly  and  came  toward  her. 

"  You  must  be  practicing  for  a  pony 
race,"  greeted  the  girl,  but  she  saw  the 

139 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

trouble  in  his  face  before  she  had  finished 
the  sentence.  "  Why,  what's  the  matter, 
Jerry  ? " 

His  face  looked  drawn  and  haggard, 
years  older  than  when  she  had  seen  him 
a  few  hours  before. 

"  I'm  afraid  Ike's  dying !  "  The 
words  came  like  a  sob  between  his 
tightly  compressed  lips. 

"  No,  no  !  "  exclaimed  Marjie.  "  Not 
that !  Tell  me  about  it !  " 

Jerry's  face  was  filled  with  grief, 
which  Marjie's  sympathy  seemed  to 
aggravate.  His  mouth  quivered  as  he 
spoke : 

"  When  I  got  back  this  noon,  he  was 
a-lying  there  in  bed  just  as  he  was  early 
in  the  morning.  He  raised  up  his  head 
and  looked  at  me  when  I  come  in,  and 
asked  for  a  drink  of  water.  Well,  he 
drank  like  he  never  seen  water  before. 
Then  I  cooked  something  for  him,  an' 
tried  to  get  him  to  eat,  but  he  wouldn't 
touch  a  thing,  and  kind  o'  talked  queer 
all  the  time.  Then  I  cooked  supper, 
an'  he  wouldn't  eat  any  of  that.  When 

140 


THE   WORK    OF   A    COWARD. 


I  brought  it  to  him  he  sat  up  in  bed 
and  told  me  to  bring  his  gun  so's  he 
could  kill  someone.  He  talked  terrible 
wild  for  a  spell,  and  then  he  fell  back  on 
his  bunk  like  he  was  dead,  an'  I  couldn't 
get  a  word  out  of  him.  He  was  just 
a-breathing  hard  all  the  time.  He 
didn't  know  me  or  anything,  so  I  didn't 
know  what  to  do.  Then  I  thought  I'd 
come  down  here,  an'  mebbe  someone 
would  know  something  to  do  for  him. 
I  can't  let  him  die  like  that !  I  hid  all 
the  guns  an'  knives,  an'  everything,  so's 
if  he  woke  up  before  I  got  back  he 
wouldn't  hurt  himself." 

"  He  must  have  the  fever  !  "  exclaimed 
Marjie  with  the  greatest  sympathy. 
"  Perhaps  he  has  the  mountain  fever. 
My  aunt  had  it  once  when  we  visited 
the  Rocky  Mountains.  I  know  just 
what  to  do  for  it.  Get  some  of  this 
white  sage  that  grows  in  the  deep  grass. 
Not  this  common  kind,  —  and  make  a 
tea  out  of  it.  It's  not  this  large,  common 
sage,  you  know,  but  something  else ; 
perhaps  it  is  not  sage  at  all,  but  it  looks 

141 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

like  it.  I  know  it  perfectly.  Come,  we 
will  find  some.  We  were  near  the  In 
dian  mission,  and  the  Indians  were  very 
kind  to  us.  I  am  sure  they  saved  my 
aunt's  life.  See,  here  is  some  of  the  sage 
now.  This  is  the  plant." 

The  girl  got  down  from  her  horse, 
and  among  the  dense  grass  of  the  hill 
side,  found  the  silvery  sage.  Jerry  was 
beside  her  in  an  instant,  and  in  a  short 
time  they  had  gathered  a  large  bunch  of 
the  weed. 

"  If  I  only  knew  how  to  make  the 
tea,  now,  and  give  it  to  him,"  said  the 
boy.  "  I  hate  to  be  gone  so  long,  — 
there's  no  tellin* —  he  might  be  dead, 
you  know,  when  I  get  back.  I  thought 
mebbe  George  Howell  would  come  up 
there  an'  see  him,  though  they  ain't  been 
on  good  terms  for  a  while.  If  Lil  could 
ride  a  horse,  mebbe  she'd  come.  I  don't 
know  what  to  do  !  " 

The  girl  was  binding  up  the  bunch  of 
sage  with  her  handkerchief.  She  spoke 
quickly  :  — 

"  But    Lil   can't   ride   a    horse  ;  -  -  you 

142 


THE    WORK    OF    A    COWARD. 

know  it.  And  if  your  friend  is  deliri 
ous  it  would  be  worse  than  folly  to  bring 
a  man  there  whom  he  possibly  dislikes. 
You  have  no  time  to  lose.  I  will  go 
back  with  you  myself.  Perhaps  two 
heads  will  be  better  than  one." 

"  Oh,  I  can't  let  you  go  there,  —  I 
can't !  Ike  would  never  forgive  me ! 
You  see,  —  oh,  I  can't  tell  you!  I 
can't!" 

Marjie  placed  her  hand  upon  the  boy's 
shoulder.  Her  voice  was  soft  and  full 
of  sweetness. 

"  You  don't  need  to  tell  me  anything, 
Jerry.  I've  been  there  before." 

His  eyes  opened  wide  as  he  looked  a: 
her  in  astonishment. 

"  Yes,"  she  continued,  as  she  quickly 
mounted  her  horse,  "I've  met  His  High 
ness.  There  can  be  no  great  objection 
to  my  going  there  again,  can  there  ?  It 
is  not  so  strange,  Jerry.  Come,  I  know 
the  way  perfectly.  See,  I  can  lead  you 
up  to  the  old  cabin  and  on  to  the  very 
trail  that  you  travel  so  often.  It  was 
Lady  that  showed  me.  You  remember 

143 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 


the  time  you  let  me  ride  her  when  you 
went  away  on  that  errand  ?  That  was  it. 
But  I  never  realized  that  she  was  taking 
me  there  until  we  were  right  there  in  the 
place." 

The  last  part  of  this  was  spoken  while 
the  two  were  going  rapidly  up  the  road. 
Jerry  could  scarcely  realize  what  the  girl 
had  told  him,  but  he  knew  that  it  would 
be  useless  to  remonstrate,  that  she  would 
have  carried  her  point  if  a  dozen  Jerries 
had  been  there  to  interfere. 

It  began  to  dawn  in  his  mind  that  he 
was  glad  that  things  had  turned  out  in 
that  way,  —  that  she  should  be  the  one 
to  go  to  Ike.  Then,  soon,  it  all  seemed 
natural.  Marjie's  composure  gave  him 
confidence.  He  quite  believed,  for  the 
time,  that  she  could  save  his  friend;  he 
could  not  see  how  her  presence  near  any 
dying  man  could  effect  otherwise. 

On  she  went  before  him,  for  they  had 
passed  the  old  cabin,  and  the  narrow 
trail  would  not  permit  the  two  to  ride 
abreast.  She  carried  the  bunch  of  weed 
in  one  hand,  and  once  she  turned  about 

144 


THE    WORK   OF   A   COWARD. 

in  the  saddle  and  waved  it  at  the  boy 
who  was  following  close  behind.  Then 
it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  gone  on  a 
fool's  errand,  that  Ike  was  not  sick,  and 
that  the  whole  afternoon  had  been  a 
nightmare. 

All  at  once  the  bay  horse  stopped  sud 
denly  and  refused  to  go  on  in  the  strange 
trail  faster  than  a  walk;  so  Jerry  rode  on 
ahead,  and  after  that  Marjie's  horse  did 
not  hesitate  to  travel  as  rapidly  as  its 
small  gray  guide. 

It  seemed  a  wonderful  race  up  the 
gulch.  In  the  conscience  of  the  gray 
pony  lay  the  knowledge  that  the  man 
who  had  raised  and  trained  her  was  in 
danger.  Whether  Lady  communicated 
this  same  thought  to  the  bay,  or  whether 
its  pride  refused  to  allow  the  small  pony 
to  get  away  from  it,  cannot  be  known. 
However  it  was,  Marjie's  horse  kept  close 
behind  Lady,  and  the  two  horses  entered 
the  Retreat  together. 

Jerry  took  both  the  horses  and  fastened 
them  some  distance^  away  from  the  cabin, 
then  the  two  went  into  the  house.  A 

145 


MARJIE   OF   THE   LOWER   RANCH. 

slight  shiver  passed  over  Marjie,  but  she 
laid  her  hand  on  the  boy's  arm  as  he 
unfastened  the  door  between  the  two 
rooms,  and  whispered  :  — 

"  Now,  be  brave,  for  I  know  he  is  — 
all  right.  At  least,  just  as  you  left  him." 

He  went  into  the  room,  and  beckoned 
to  the  girl.  The  man  was  just  as  he  had 
left  him,  in  a  deep  stupor.  Marjie  bent 
over  him,  watched  him  breathe,  and 
pressed  her  cool  fingers  to  his  forehead. 
It  was  not  strange  that  she  knew  how  to 
nurse.  It  was  natural,  just  as  it  was 
natural  for  her  to  be  womanly. 

"  It  must  be  the  fever,  Jerry,"  she  said 
softly.  "  We  must  do  something  at  once. 
First,  let's  try  to  place  him  in  a  more 
comfortable  position.  See,  he's  all  doubled 
up  on  one  of  his  shoulders.  There,  that's 
right.  Now  lift  him  very,  very  carefully, 
-so.  Now  that's  better." 

A  faint  groan  came  from  the  man  as 
Jerry  brought  him  around  in  position. 
But  for  the  time,  his  troubles  with  his 
conscience  slept. 

"  He  must  be  in  awful  pain,"  said  Jerry, 

146 


THE   WORK    OF   A    COWARD. 

seating  himself  upon  the  side  of  the 
bunk. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Marjie,  "  but  he  is 
happily  unconscious  of  it.  We  hurt  him 
when  we  moved  him  ;  I  wonder  how. 
Now,  Jerry,  get  some  wood,  and  I'll 
build  the  fire  while  you  go  for  some  cold, 
—  ice  cold  water.  We  will  make  that 
tea  just  as  soon  as  possible.  Such  a  pil 
low  !  I  must  lower  his  head." 

While  the  boy  was  gone,  Marjie  re 
moved  the  great  blanket  that  was  folded 
in  shape  for  a  pillow,  and  brought  his 
head  into  an  easier  position.  Then  with 
quick,  effective  fingers,  she  arranged  the 
covering  about  the  unconscious  man. 

Suddenly  she  gave  a  low,  startled  ex 
clamation,  and  holding  her  hand  before 
her  eyes,  looked  at  it  steadily.  She 
heard  Jerry  come  in  with  the  wood.  In 
an  instant  she  was  at  his  side,  holding  out 
her  hand  before  his  startled  face. 

"  See,  Jerry,  he  has  not  got  the  fever  ! 
It  is  —  it  is  blood  !  His  bed  is  wet  with 
it  —  all  under  his  head  !  What  does  it 
mean  ? " 

147 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 


"  Blood  ?  "  his  face  was  as  pale  as  death. 
"Blood!  It  can't  be  blood  !"  he  cried, 
aghast. 

"  But  it  is  !  You  must  find  out,  Jerry, 
what  caused  it.  Come,  you  must!  Don't 
be  frightened.  You  must  be  calm  now, 
if  you  ever  were.  Think,  his  life  may 
depend  upon  it !  It  does  depend  upon 
it!" 

She  half  dragged  him  with  her  to  the 
side  of  the  bunk. 

"  No,  you  are  trembling  like  a  leaf. 
Sit  down  a  minute  there,  then  you  will 
be  all  right.  I  can  do  it  myself." 

She  slid  one  of  her  hands  beneath  the 
man's  head,  in  the  track  of  the  blood. 
Then  she  remembered  that  he  had  lain 
on  his  shoulder  in  that  same  spot.  Before 
Jerry  had  recovered  from  the  weakness 
which  the  sight  of  blood  had  caused,  she 
had  torn  the  covering  from  the  man's 
shoulder  and  laid  bare  a  cruel  looking 
bullet  wound. 

"  An'    he  never  told  me !       He  never 
said  a  word  about  it !      Ike,  if  you  die, 
I  swear  I'll  kill  the  man  that  did  it !  " 
148 


THE    WORK    OF   A    COWARD. 

The  boy's  fear  of  blood  had  vanished. 
He  sank  down  upon  his  knees  beside  the 
wounded  man  and  buried  his  face  in  the 
blankets.  Marjie  was  scarcely  less  af 
fected.  Her  eyes  glittered  under  sharply 
drawn  brows.  In  her  heart  she  echoed 
his  sentiment. 

"  Shot  in  his  back  bv  a  coward  !      See, 

J 

the  bullet  entered  here.  There  is  no 
place  to  show  where  it  came  out ;  —  it 
must  be  in  there  yet." 

Jerry  lifted  up  his  head  and  looked 
closely  where  Marjie  pointed.  Then  he 
spoke  as  he  might  have  spoken  had  the 
man  been  dead. 

"  Yes,  shot  in  the  back  while  he  was 
stooping  over  the  pan  of  sand,  washin' 
out  the  dust.  My  God,  I'll  never  rest  till 
I've  paid  back  the  fellow  that  killed  you  !" 

"  Hush  !  Would  you  be  a  murderer 
because  another  has  tried  to  be  one  ?  He 
has  failed,  I  tell  you,  —  fooled !  We 
won't  let  him  die  !  He  shall  not  die  ! 
See,  I  can  feel  the  bullet !  It's  right 
here,  and  we'll  have  to  get  it  out  some 
way.  If  we  only  had  a  doctor  !  " 

149 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

After  the  wound  was  bathed,  the  girl, 
with  skill  born  of  the  moment,  probed 
for  the  bullet  and  extracted  it.  Then 
she  cleansed  out  the  wound  and  bound 
it  up  carefully  with  bandages  torn  from 
her  own  white  underskirt. 

In  thinking  it  over  afterward,  it  seemed 
to  her  that  she  had  stood  by  and  watched 
some  one  do  it  for  her. 


160 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

A    SURPRISING    AND     UNUSUAL     HOLDUP. 

,FTER  it  was  all  done,  the 
man  seemed  to  breathe  easier, 
though  he  did  not  regain 
consciousness.  The  girl's 
assurances  that  he  would  recover  made 
Jerry  feel  hopeful,  yet  she  herself  scarcely 
dared  hope,  though  by  sheer  force  of 
will  she  determined  that  he  must  live. 

"  It's  like  this,  Jerry :  The  loss  of 
so  much  blood,  the  pain  of  the  wound, 
and  his  neglect  of  it,  have  brought  a 
fever  upon  him.  In  a  little  while  longer 
he  would  have  effected  his  own  suicide 
most  completely.  Now  he  must  live 
whether  he  wants  to  or  not.  He  must 
have  proper  stimulant  and  nourishment ; 
then  the  fever  will  take  care  of  itself. 
But  the  tea  would  do  him  more  harm 
than  good  now.  If  we  only  had  some 

151 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

fresh  beef!  What  have  you  in  the 
house?  Have  you  beef,  or  eggs,  —  or 
even  whiskey  ? " 

"  No,  we  ain't  got  anything  like  that," 
answered  Jerry.  Then  more  brightly, 
"  But  I  can  get  beef.  There's  some  good 
ones  about  a  mile  back  in  the  coulee,  an' 
there's  eggs,  and  most  likely  whiskey, 
down  at  Lil's." 

Margie  made  a  motion  of  dissent. 

"  Yes,  true ;  there's  beef  and  eggs  in 
Chicago,  but  that  isn't  here.  We  want 
them  now  !  " 

"  It  won't  take  me  more  than  an  hour 
to  kill  one  of  those  steers  down  there, 
and  cut  a  piece  out  of  it.  I  can  have  it 
back  here  in  less  than  an  hour." 

"  But  the  cattle  aren't  yours.  It  would 
be  against  the  law  to  kill  one." 

"  What's  the  law  beside  Ike's  life  ? 
Anyway,  there's  some  of  Tom  Howell's 
cattle  down  there,  an'  I  can  pay  for  one 
of 'em  afterwards." 

Marjie  brightened.  "  Oh,  I'm  so 
glad  !  Of  course,  kill  one.  If  Tom 
knew,  he  would  be  pleased  that  you  did 

152 


A    SURPRISING   HOLDUP. 

so.  Do  you  think  that  you  can  be  back 
in  less  than  an  hour  ? ' 

"Yes,  sure  of  it,"  answered  Jerry. 
"  It  ain't  anywhere  near  dark  yet.  You 
won't  be  afraid  to  stay  alone,  will  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  answered  in  a  low  voice. 
"  When  I  see  a  man  so  near  death  as  this, 
I  should  be  ashamed  to  feel  fear.  Now, 
go  quickly  so  that  you  can  get  back 
before  dark." 

The  boy  went  to  the  kitchen  and  took 
from  beneath  a  loose  board  in  the  floor  a 
belt  and  a  brace  of  six-shooters.  He 
buckled  on  the  belt  as  he  hurriedly  left 
the  house,  then  he  returned  and  procured 
a  knife  from  the  same  place.  Marjie 
came  near  him,  and  he  turned  to  her 
impulsively,  saying  :  - 

"  I  don't  like  to  leave  you  alone  here. 
It  don't  seem  right,  but  you're  the  bravest 
girl  that  ever  lived.  Here,  take  one  of 
these  ;  it  might  make  you  feel  safer." 

He  handed  her  one  of  the  guns  from 
his  belt,  which  she  took  from  him  with 
great  caution,  then  laid  it  carefully  upon 
a  table  in  the  farther  room,  covering  it 
with  her  large  hat. 

153 


MARJIE  OF  THE  LOWER  RANCH. 


"  I  shall  feel  much  safer  with  that  out 
of  sight,  for  I  have  a  horror  of  a  revolver. 
But  I  know  how  to  shoot  a  rifle  for  I've 
practiced  all  summer.  If  anyone  comes 
shall  I  shoot  them  ?" 

This  last  was  said  half  mischievously. 
Jerry  answered  quickly  as  he  passed  out : 
"  No  one  will  come.  No  one  ever 
comes  —  now.  If  they  do  come,  you 
can  be  sure  that  they've  no  business 
around." 

Marjie  built  the  fire  and  found  a  dozen 
little  things  to  do.  Every  few  moments 
she  would  go  to  the  man's  bedside  and 
look  at  him  anxiously.  A  light  breeze 
came  through  the  open  door  of  the 
kitchen,  bringing  with  it  the  cool  of  the 
evening.  The  girl  worked  briskly,  keep 
ing  down  the  strange  feeling  of  fear  and 
anxiety  that  would  rise  in  her  heart. 

When  a  half  hour  had  passed,  it 
seemed  to  her  that  Jerry  had  been  gone 
much  longer  than  he  had  intended, 
though  it  was  still  daylight  outside.  She 
remembered  noticing  a  watch  in  the 
back  room  among  the  man's  clothes,  so 

154 


A    SURPRISING   HOLDUP. 

she  went  in  there  to  get  it.  It  would 
keep  her  company.  From  the  bunk  two 
dark  eyes  watched  her  wonderingly,  as  in 
the  dimness  of  the  room,  she  raised  the 
watch  close  to  her  face  to  ascertain  the 
time,  and  was  startled  at  the  earliness. 
How  slowly  the  time  had  passed  !  The 
last  hour  or  two  seemed  like  days.  But 
Jerry  had  come  at  last,  even  sooner  than 
he  had  expected.  A  step  crossed  the 
threshold  and  Marjie  advanced  eagerly  to 
meet  him,  but  when  she  reached  the  side 
of  the  man's  bed,  she  drew  back  in  alarm. 
It  was  not  Jerry !  Whoever  it  was 
stepped  quickly  back  to  the  doorway 
when  he  saw  a  figure  outlined  in  the  dim 
room  beyond.  Evidently  he  had  not  ex 
pected  to  see  anyone. 

Step  by  step,  Marjie  moved  back,  so 
still  and  evenly  that  she  seemed  to  the 
watching  stranger  not  to  move  at  all. 
Her  hand  touched  the  table,  then  her 
hat :  she  felt  for  the  revolver  and  drew  it 
carefully  behind  her.  Then  just  as  she 
had  walked  backward,  she  walked  for 
ward,  step  by  step,  until  she  stood  in  the 

155 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH  . 

doorway  beside  the  man's  bed,  just  oppo 
site  to  the  stranger  who  watched  her  in 
fascination.  The  light  from  the  outside 
door  shone  full  upon  her.  He  could  see 
her  distinctly.  Then  a  bit  of  bright 
metal  flashed  before  her,  and  she  called 
out  clearly : 

"  Put  up  your  arms  !  High,  or  I'll 
shoot ! " 

He  had  been  fairly  caught.  The  dim 
light  of  the  farther  room  had  revealed  to 
him  a  woman,  and  he,  who  had  expected 
to  see  no  living  person,  had  stood  there 
watching  the  quiet  figure,  wondering  if 
she  were  going  backward  or  forward,  or 
standing  still,  and  whether  she  was  a 
woman  or  an  apparition.  And  so  he  had 
been  caught.  His  dark  face  turned  pale 
as  he  obeyed  her.  She  continued  in  a 
clear  voice : 

"  You  may  not  know  it,  but  I  am  a 
dead  shot."  (This  was  scarcely  true.) 
"  If  you  make  one  movement,  I  will  kill 
you  without  hesitation.  Now,  please 
answer  a  few  questions.  I  won't  detain 
you  long.  What  do  you  want  here?" 

156 


A    SURPRISING    HOLDUP. 


"  I  just  come  up  to  see  His  Highness. 
I  swear  I  won't  do  nothing,  and  I'll  give 
you  my  gun  if  you'll  point  that  six-shooter 
the  other  way." 

"  No ;  when  you  have  answered  my 
questions  you  can  go,  but  not  before. 
Are  you  in  the  habit  of  coming  here  ? '' 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  I  belong  here. 
Ain't  you  goin'  to  take  that  gun  down  ? " 

"No;  that  gun  stays  there  until  I've 
finished !  "  exclaimed  the  girl  angrily. 
"  You  prove  yourself  to  be  a  coward  and 
no  gentleman  —  no  man,  to  be  afraid  of 
a  gun  !  Attend  strictly  to  my  questions. 
What  is  your  name  ? ' 

The  man  muttered  something  unin 
telligible. 

"  Your  name,  I  said  ;   what  is  it  ?  " 

"I'm  Kid,  —  Kid  Cory,"  he  answered 
gruffly. 

"  Be  easy,  now,"  said  Marjie  quietly. 
"  Remember  you  are  speaking  to  a  lady 
—  and  a  dead  shot !  Why  is  it  you  are 
on  bad  terms  with  Mr.  -  — ,  His  High 
ness  ?  Tell  me  the  truth  !  " 

"  Because  he,  —  I  ain't  on  no  bad 
terms  with  him  !  Who  said  I  was  ? " 


157 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

"  You  said  so  yourself.  Now  tell  me 
exactly  why  you  came  here." 

"  I  came  to  see  if  he  was  home." 

"  Yes,  I  believe  you  tell  the  truth.  I 
dare  say  you  came  to  see  if  he  was  home  ! 
I  dare  say  I  could  tell  you  anything  you 
want  to  know,  you,  —  you  !  "  — 

A  hand  reached  out  from  the  bunk 
beside  her,  and  pulled  faintly  at  her  dress. 
She  heeded  the  warning  and  collected 
herself  in  time,  continuing  in  a  lower, 
less  steady  voice  :  — 

"  I  see  you  thought  His  Highness  was 
away  from  home  or  you  would  not  have 
ventured  here.  It  is  true  he  has  been 
away,  but  not  far,  and  I  was  instructed  to 
keep  everyone  away  from  the  premises 
until  his  return.  He  won't  be  long, 
now,  and  I  advise  you  to  go  away  quickly. 
If  you  will  go  at  once,  like  the  gentle 
man  that  I  dare  say  you  are,  I  will  not 
mention  the  fact  to  him  that  you  have 
been  here.  If  you  do  not  go  quietly, 
and  as  you  should,  I  will  shoot  you, — 
not  to  kill,  however.  But  he  is  near 
enough  for  the  shot  to  reach  his  ears. 

158 


A    SURPRISING    HOLDUP. 

You  know  what  will  happen  then.  Now 
you  may  go.  Good-evening,  Mr.  —  Cory. 
I  fear  you  will  think  that  I  have  been 
very  rude  to  you,  but  it  was  unavoid 
able." 

"  I  won't  hold  no  bad  feelings  toward 
you  if  you  hold  your  tongue  about  this. 
Don't  you  be  a-goin'  an'  tellin'  any  one," 
said  Kid,  as  he  turned  and  walked  quickly 
away,  anxious  above  all  else  to  get  out  of 
range  of  that  gun  and  those  cool,  glitter 
ing  eyes. 

Marjie  stood  in  the  doorway  and 
watched  him  until  he  was  out  of  sight, 
then  she  turned  and  went  to  the  man's 
bedside. 


159 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

WHAT     MATTERS    A    NAME? 

,HE  hand  that  had  plucked  at 
her  skirt  hung  limply  beside 
the  bunk.  His  eyes  were 
closed,  and  but  for  an  odd 
expression  of  anxiety  about  his  mouth,  he 
might  have  been  in  the  same  unconscious 
condition  as  before. 

Marjie  stood  beside  him,  nervously 
realizing  that  he  was  awake,  a  strange 
feeling  of  embarrassment  stealing  over 
her.  Suddenly  the  pitifulness  of  his 
condition  rushed  upon  her  mind.  She 
lifted  the  limply  hanging  arm  and  placed 
it  beside  him  as  tenderly  as  a  mother 
could  have  done,  then  asked  :  — 

"  How  do  you  feel  ?  Would  you  like 
a  drink  or  anything  ?  Don't  answer  if 
you  don't  feel  like  it.  I  am  so  glad  that 
you  are  better  !  " 

160 


WHAT    MATTERS    A    NAME? 

A  smile,  if  an  expression  so  sad  may 
be  called  a  smile,  came  to  the  man's  face, 
and  Marjie  felt  a  surprise  that  she  had 
not  noticed  before  how  grand  and  noble 
he  looked. 

"  I  am  making  you  much  trouble,"  he 
said,  with  an  effort  to  raise  his  voice 
above  a  whisper. 

"  Yes ;  a  terrible  lot !  So  much  that 
my  shoulders  are  getting  stooped."  She 
laughed  softly.  "  But  you've  saved  me 
much  trouble  by  waking  up  and  feeling 
better.  Your  fever  has  gone  down." 
She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  forehead. 
"We  —  Jerry  has  been  so  worried  about 
you.  He  went  out  to  get  something 
that  I  wanted  for  you.  He  will  be  so 
glad  to  find  you  better.  You  are  very 
weak  and  need  good  nourishment,  then 
you  will  be  all  right.  Promise  me  that 
you  will  try  to  get  well !  " 

He  smiled  again  in  answer,  then  for 
the  first  time  opened  his  eyes  and  looked 
at  her. 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  die,  —  now." 

"  Then  you  must  do  everything  that 
I  tell  you;  —  promise  me." 

161 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

"  Absolute  obedience." 

"Then,"  she  continued,  "don't  at 
tempt  to  talk,  or  to  think,  even.  Drink 
this  water  and  try  to  sleep.  I  will  stay 
by  you,  so." 

He  drank  from  the  cup  she  held,  then 
taking  one  of  her  hands  in  his  own,  he 
closed  his  eyes  and  tried  to  do  her  bid 
ding.  He  made  but  a  pretense,  having, 
as  he  thought,  no  desire  for  sleep  ;  but 
in  a  short  time  he  really  slept,  naturally 
and  peacefully.  Then  Marjie  gently  loos 
ened  her  hand  from  his  slight  grasp  and 
left  his  side. 

Jerry  came  soon  afterward,  looking 
anxious  and  worried.  He  carried  part 
of  a  hind-quarter  of  beef  on  his  saddle, 
and  stopping  before  the  door,  laid  it  upon 
a  box  outside  the  house.  His  relief  to 
see  Marjie  safe,  and  to  learn  that  Ike  had 
recovered  consciousness,  was  great.  The 
girl  cut  up  a  portion  of  the  beef  and 
showed  him  how  to  extract  the  juice  and 
make  the  tea.  He  watched  her  carefully 
as  she  proceeded  ;  finally  he  said  :  —  "  It's 
dark  now,  but  there's  goin'  to  be  a  good 

162 


WHAT   MATTERS   A   NAME? 

moon.  You'd  better  go  back,  hadn't 
you  ? " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Marjie  ;  "  for  I  don't 
want  any  one  to  know  that  I  have  been 
here.  I  don't  think  that  he"  pointing  to 
the  farther  room,  "  would  like  to  have  it 
known,  —  even  that  he  was  shot.  So  if 
I  go  back  now  they  won't  know  but  that 
I've  been  to  Winter's,  as  I  intended  when 
I  started  out.  It  seems  as  though  that 
was  some  time  last  week  !  I  think  that 
he  will  be  all  right  now.  You  give  him 
the  beef  tea  when  he  wakens,  and  I  will 
try  to  come  real  early  in  the  morning. 
But  I  wonder  if  that  horse  of  mine  can 
find  its  way  down  to  the  ranch  to 
night  ?  " 

"  I  tell  you  what  to  do,"  spoke  up 
Jerry.  "  You  ride  Lady.  She'll  take 
you  down  there  all  right.  I  can  keep 
your  horse  till  morning." 

"  That's  fine,"  answered  Marjie.  "  I 
can  say  that  I  met  you  and  that  we 
traded  horses,  —  all  perfectly  true.  Even 
if  it  is  after  dark  when  I  get  there,  they 
won't  think  anything  about  it.  Only  it 

103 


MARJIK    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

would  be  rather  embarrassing  if  George 
Howell  should  ride  up  to  Winter's  to  get 
me ;  but  it  is  not  at  all  probable  that  he 
will  do  so.  You  won't  make  any  noise, 
Jerry,  —  not  the  least.  Let  him  sleep  as 
long  as  he  will, —  the  longer  the  better; 
then  be  sure  to  give  him  the  tea  as  I  told 
you." 

"  You  don't  need  to  worry.  Ike's  all 
I've  got,  an'  I'll  do  my  best.  I'll  change 
saddles,  so's  you  can  go.  It  ain't  real 
pitch-dark  out,  an'  there's  goin'  to  be  a 
good  moon  in  a  few  minutes.  You  can 
see  the  light  of  it  behind  that  mountain 
over  there." 

Jerry  spoke  very  softly  for  fear  of  wak 
ing  the  sleeping  man ;  then  he  tiptoed 
out  of  the  house  to  change  the  saddles. 

Marjie  gave  the  final  touches  to  some 
food  which  she  had  been  preparing  ;  then 
she  took  the  small  lamp  and  placed  it  on 
the  table  in  the  adjoining  room,  making 
a  shade  for  it  out  of  an  old  newspaper. 
She  picked  up  her  hat  and  quietly  went 
out,  pausing  for  an  instant  beside  the 
wounded  man  to  ascertain  if  he  still  slept. 

164 


WHAT    MATTERS    A    NAME? 

After  a  few  more  instructions  to  Jerry, 
she  mounted  the  pony,  and  trusting 
blindly  to  its  instinct,  rode  away  in  the 
darkness.  The  moon  did  not  shine  fully 
above  the  mountains  until  she  passed  the 
old  cabin  ;  then  a  great  relief  came  over 
her.  The  evening  with  its  excitement, 
its  tragedy,  and  its  unfoldment,  seemed 
dim  and  unreal.  In  the  distance  lay  the 
ranch-house  and  large  sheep-sheds,  - 
huge,  dark-looking  in  the  moonlight. 
With  the  relief  of  a  certain  nervous  ten 
sion  came  a  weariness,  a  drowsiness,  al 
most  overwhelming.  A  great  longing  to 
reach  the  ranch  unperceived,  to  go  direct 
to  her  room  and  her  bed,  came  over  her. 
How  long  had  she  been  there  in  the 
mountains  ?  With  a  start  she  remem 
bered  that  early  that  same  morning  she 
had  said  good-by  to  Kitty  and  the  babies, 
and  had  set  out  alone  for  the  mountains. 
She  sat  bolt  upright  in  the  saddle  and 
laughed  softly.  Truly  it  seemed  weeks  ! 
In  that  one  day  she  had  lived  months,  or 
years.  She  had  gone  to  the  assistance  of 
the  man  who  had  declined  her  friend- 

165 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

ship,  she  had  unraveled  the  mystery,  and 
faced  the  person  who  committed  the 
crime.  All  this,  and  more  —  much  more 
—  in  one  evening. 

Then  from  the  bewildering  mass  of 
thoughts  came  one  clear  and  dominating. 
-  She  had  brought  help  to  this  man, 
His  Highness,  or  Ike,  —  what  mattered 
his  name  ?  He  had  been  pleased  —  com 
forted  —  by  her  presence,  and  now,  per 
haps,  as  he  slept,  he  dreamed  that  he  still 
held  her  hand  within  his  own. 

She  raised  the  hand  before  her  in  the 
moonlight,  and  smiled  softly  at  the 
thought;  then  on  a  sudden  she  became 
frightened,  her  face  pale,  as  upon  the 
palm  a  dark  spot  appeared. 

It  was  but  the  shadow  of  a  fluttering 
ribbon  between  her  hand  and  the  moon, 
yet  to  her  sensitive  imagination  it  seemed 
to  be  an  indelible  soot  of  blood. 


160 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 


A    FORAGING    PARTY    OF    ONE. 

ARJIE  was  still  nervous  as  she 
rode  up  to  the  corral  and 
began  with  unsteady  hands  to 
remove  the  saddle  from  the 
gray  pony.  She  hoped  that  she  might 
gain  her  room  unperceived,  but  with  the 
hope  came  quick  steps  and  a  man's  voice 
not  far  away,  saying  :  — 

"  Is  that  you,  Marjie  ?  Has  your 
horse  changed  color  since  you  left  ?  I 
was  beginning  to  get  pretty  uneasy  about 
you,  and  thought  it  was  Jerry  when  you 
rode  up.  I  was  just  going  to  get  him  to 
hunt  you  up." 

"  You  must  never  worry  about  me." 
The  girl's  voice  sounded  languid,  as 
though  she  were  completely  tired  out. 
She  hesitated  for  an  instant,  then  went 
on :  —  "I  didn't  intend  to  be  so  late  to 
night,  but  the  time  passes  quickly,  before 

167 


MARJIE  OF  THE  LOWER  RANCH. 


one  has  time  to  realize  it.  I  liked 
Jerry's  pony  so  well  that  he  let  me  ex 
change  with  him.  Not  for  keeps,  though. 
I  wish  it  were.  But  isn't  it  the  dearest 
pony  you  ever  saw  ? ' 

"  Lady's  all  right.  I'd  rather  ride  a 
good  sized  horse,  myself.  So  Jerry  was 
with  you  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  met  him  just  as  I  went  to 
turn  into  Winters'  ranch.  He  is  a  nice 
boy.  —  I  am  very  fond  of  Taggie,  too;  - 
and  you,  and  —  all  of  you  are  so  kind  to 
me.  I  shall  enjoy  every  moment  of  my 
stay  here.  You  must  not  mind  if  I  run 
about  considerably,  will  you  ? ': 

"Not  a  bit  of  it !  All  that  I'm  look 
ing  out  for  is  that  you  don't  get  lonesome 
or  homesick.  No ;  I'm  glad  you  like 
the  Winter  family,  and  Jerry  is  a  pretty 
good  boy.  He'll  make  a  good  comrade 
for  you." 

Marjie  felt  a  revulsion,  a  feeling  of 
disgust,  that  she  should  practice  deceit 
upon  so  kind  a  friend.  She  had  been  so 
open  and  frank  in  all  her  actions  and 
thoughts  throughout  her  whole  life  that 

168 


A    FORAGING    PARTY    OF    ONE. 

she  felt  a  certain  shrinking  from  her 
present  predicament.  In  time  she  be 
came  used  to  it.  Now  she  had  but 
entered  upon  her  "  dream  life,"  out  of 
which  was  to  grow  all  the  pain  of  reality. 

When  she  entered  the  house,  she  found 
the  woman  sitting  serenely  near  the  open 
door,  apparently  waiting  for  her.  In 
wait,  would  (be  nearer  the  truth,  for  a 
whole  evening's  bottled-up  talk  gushed 
forth  joyfully  and  unreservedly,  before 
the  girl  had  an  opportunity  to  be  seated. 
But  as  the  woman  talked,  Marjie  dropped 
down  upon  the  nearest  chair  and  waited 
for  a  lull  that  she  might  escape. 

What  was  it  she  was  saying?  Some 
thing  about  feeding  the  dogs,  or  was  it 
the  chickens  ?  Her  thoughts  refused  to 
take  the  pace  of  the  woman's  tongue,  but 
traveled  on  over  the  hills  to  the  retreat 
that  she  had  just  left.  Had  Ike  awak 
ened,  and  had  Jerry  managed  the  tea 
properly  ?  Would  that  strange,  bad-look 
ing  man  return  and  trouble  him  ?  Why 
had  she  not  told  Jerry  about  the  cir 
cumstance  ?  If  the  woman  would  but 

169 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

cease  her  chatter !  Fortunately  George 
Howell  came  to  her  rescue. 

"  Let  up,  Lil.  Can't  you  see  that 
Marjie's  plumb  played  out?  Aren't  you? " 
he  asked,  turning  to  the  girl. 

"  Yes  ;  somewhat,"  she  replied.  "  I 
got  up  very  early  this  morning  so  as  to 
get  started  while  it  was  cool.  That 
makes  me  stupid  and  sleepy  to-night.  If 
you  will  both  excuse  me,  I  think  that  I 
will  go  to  bed." 

"  Why,  of  course,"  the  woman  ex 
claimed.  "  I  might  of  known  that  you 
were  all  played  out  if  I'd  been  thinkin' 
about  it.  Don't  you  want  a  bite  to  eat 
before  you  turn  in?  No?  Well,  I'll 
just  go  with  you  and  fetch  this  lamp 
along." 

Lil  lighted  the  lamp  and  placed  it 
upon  a  table  in  Marjie's  room,  then  pro 
ceeded  with  her  talk. 

"  How'd  you  like  the  way  we  fixed  up 
this  room  ?  It'll  do,  won't  it  ?  I  reckon 
it  needed  it  pretty  much.  George,  he 
thought  you  ought  to  have  things  just  as 
good  as  you  had  at  Tom's,  or  even  better, 

170 


A   FORAGING   PARTY    OF    ONE. 

so  when  he  went  into  town  he  bought 
this  here  Brussels  carpet  and  them  cur 
tains.  They  were  marked  Brussels  point ; 
—  I  don't  see  why,  but  of  course  anyone 
can  see  they're  some  kind  of  a  pointed 
lace.  They're  real  pretty,  but  I  don't 
care  much  about  curtains,  myself.  In 
fact,  I  never  go  much  on  the  luxuries  of 
life.  Give  me  good  victuals,  an'  plenty 
of  'em,  an'  I  can  get  along  without  any 
fine  things.  But  I'm  glad  you're  pleased 
with  it.  George  was  sayin*  that  it  wasn't 
half  as  good  as  you're  used  to,  but  land 
sakes,  if  you  can't  content  yourself  in 
this  here  room  now,  with  all  these  new 
fixings,  —  I  don't  see; — an'  that  new 
bureau,  too ;  —  ain't  that  a  fine  glass  on 
it  ?  You'll  be  able  to  look  at  yourself  all 
you  want  to  in  that,  I  reckon.  That's 
fine  trimmin'  you've  got  on  that  under- 
waist.  Do  you  have  to  run  them  ribbons 
around  every  time  it's  washed  ?  My,  but 
girls  do  have  a  lot  of  fixings !  You've 
got  nice,  long  hair,  but  I'd  think  it'd  be 
a  lot  of  bother  to  brush  it  out  like  that 
every  night.  I  wouldn't  have  the  pa- 

171 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

tience.  I  suppose  mine  would  be  better 
if  I'd  do  it.  But  what's  the  difference 
when  a  person's  married?" 

She  stopped  to  take  breath.  Marjie 
impatiently  laid  down  her  hair  brush  and 
said  quickly  :  — 

"  Good-night.  I  won't  keep  you  up 
any  longer.  You  and  —  your  husband 
have  been  so  kind  to  me.  I  can't  find 
words  to  express  my  gratitude  to-night, 
—  I  am  so  tired.  —  To-morrow,  though, 
there  will  be  lots  to  say.  Good-night." 

The  woman,  loath  to  leave,  walked 
slowly  out.  There  was  no  alternative, 
for  Marjie  held  open  the  door  and  mutely 
invited  her  to  go.  But  Lil  felt  no  of 
fense,  for  the  girl  possessed  the  rare  qual 
ity  of  being  able  to  say  and  do  anything 
without  offending  people  ;  —  the  power 
to  impress  every  one  that  her  opinion  was 
infallible  —  such  a  power  is  one  of  the 
most  convenient  equipments  of  life. 

Marjie  was  up  at  daybreak  the  next 
morning,  and  then,  for  the  first  time,  and 
she  devoutly  prayed  it  would  be  the  last,  pro 
ceeded  to  do  a  little  foraging.  She  wanted 

172 


A    FORAGING    PARTY    OF    ONE. 

eggs  and  milk  and  bread  for  the  wounded 
man,  but  was  too  much  of  a  stranger  in 
the  house  to  know  where  those  articles 
were  kept.  Taggie  would  have  gloried 
in  the  act,  and  would  doubtlessly  have 
succeeded  better.  Marjie  thought  of  it, 
and  in  spite  of  her  fearfulness,  smiled 
slightly.  Taggie  should  have  had  her 
place  in  all  this  deception.  It  seemed  to 
herself  little  short  of  a  crime.  Moving 
with  great  caution  about  the  kitchen, 
she  carefully  searched  the  cupboard,  and 
looked  on  the  shelves  and  in  every  nook 
and  corner  where  the  necessary  pro 
visions  might  be  placed.  Finally,  in  an 
old  clothes  boiler,  shoved  out  of  sight 
under  the  kitchen  table,  she  discovered 
the  bread.  With  many  misgivings  she 
took  from  the  goodly  supply  one  loaf, 
which  she  wrapped  carefully  in  a  cloth 
flour  sack  that  she  found  among  the  dish- 
towels.  Eggs  were  not  to  be  found,  and 
she  dared  search  no  more  in  the  kitchen 
for  fear  of  arousing  the  people.  She 
was  equally  afraid  of  arousing  the  hens, 
so  she  noiselessly  left  the  house. 

173 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER   RANCH. 

Lady  was  in  the  small  pasture  appar 
ently  waiting  for  her.  She  led  the  pony 
by  the  mane  to  the  corral,  where  she 
saddled  it. 

Quickly  and  quietly  the  small  animal 
carried  her  out  of  sight  of  the  ranch. 
Then  the  girl,  with  cheeks  burning  from 
the  excitement  of  her  adventure,  laughed 
in  a  wonderfully  low,  sweet  way,  and 
patting  Lady  upon  the  neck,  called  her 
many  endearing  names. 

It  is  uncertain  that  the  pony  under 
stood  the  words,  yet  there  is  small  doubt 
that  it  well  knew  the  spirit  from  whence 
they  came,  —  and  even  a  horse  would 
not  resent  that. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

INTO    THE    VERY    NUCLEUS    OF    THE 
BLACK    FANCIES. 

>HE  sun  was  just  beginning  to 
creep  out  from  behind  the 
mountains  when  Marjie  rode 
up  to  the  cabin  in  the  Retreat. 
She  congratulated  herself  upon  being  so 
early,  yet  her  face  wore  a  look  of  anxious 
questioning  when  Jerry  opened  the  door. 
"  He  ain't  any  worse,"  was  his  greet 
ing,  "  but  he's  powerful  weak.  I'm 
awful  glad  you've  come !  " 

"  You  haven't  slept,"  she  said,  noting 
the  boy's  tired  face. 

"  That's  nothin',"  he  replied.  "What's 
one  night  ?  I  guess  I  ain't  a  baby,  an'  it 
ain't  goin*  to  hurt  me  any." 

"  Is  he  awake  ? "  she  asked,  still  stand 
ing  beside  the  door. 

"  I  ain't  sure ;  he  was  a  while  back, 

175 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

but  I  kind  of  think  he's  sleepin',  —  at 
least  he  looks  like  it.  Just  go  in  quiet, 
an*  see.  You  can  tell  better'n  I  can. 
I'll  go  an'  take  care  of  Lady." 

He  moved  toward  his  horse  while 
speaking,  and  Marjie  quietly  entered  the 
cabin.  She  stood  irresolutely  in  the 
center  of  the  first  room  for  a  moment, 
a  flush  creeping  gradually  over  her  face, 
then  with  a  sudden  hardening  of  expres 
sion,  she  laid  the  loaf  of  bread  that  she 
had  brought  down  upon  the  table,  and 
walked  with  quiet,  resolute  steps  to  the 
man's  bedside. 

A  shade  of  newspapers  that  she  had 
fastened  over  the  small  window  the  pre 
vious  evening  darkened  the  room  con 
siderably,  so  that  for  a  moment  she  could 
not  tell  whether  the  quiet  man  before 
her  was  asleep  or  awake.  Becoming 
accustomed  to  the  semi-darkness,  she  saw 
that  his  eyes  were  closed,  and  she  bent 
low  over  him  to  catch  the  faint  sound  of 
his  breath. 

But  the  man,  apparently  unconscious, 
was  curiously  alive,  —  alive  to  the  faint 

176 


NUCLEUS   OF  THE   BLACK    FANCIES. 

sweetness  of  the  girl's  presence,  to  the 
hair  that  softly  touched  his  arm,  and  to 
the  breath,  half-suppressed  in  fear  of  dis 
turbing  him.  A  great  desire  to  live,  to 
fight  down  the  past,  and  to  take  his  place 
in  the  world  as  the  man  he  was,  and 
should  have  been,  at  that  moment  took 
possession  of  him,  as  in  all  history  the 
same  sweet  cause  has  ever  moved  man 
kind  to  great  and  noble  works,  to  higher 
thoughts. 

A  quick  breath,  the  quiver  of  eyelids, 
betrayed  him.  Marjie  straightened  in 
stantly,  a  startled  exclamation  escaped  her 
lips,  and  she  moved  involuntarily  away 
from  the  bunk.  The  man  looked  at  her 
direct,  and  raised  his  arm  to  detain  her, 
at  which  the  woman  in  her  awoke,  she 
recovered  her  composure,  and  said  with 
some  concern  :  — 

"  You  mustn't  move  that  arm,  you'll 
loosen  all  the  bandages.  See,  I  will  have 
to  fix  them  all  over.  But  then,  they 
must  need  it  by  this  time.  I  thought 
you  were  asleep  and  you  startled  me. 
I've  come  to  look  after  you  a  little  this 

177 


MARJIE   OF  THE   LOWER   RANCH. 

morning,  to  get  your  breakfast ;  in  fact  I 
am  your  physician  and  head  nurse,  so  you 
must  obey  orders,  sir,  or  the  next  time 
I  will  send  a  substitute,  —  Lil,  for  in 
stance/' 

She  quickly  dressed  the  wounded  shoul 
der,  and  over  the  white  bandage  tied  a 
bright  red  silk  handkerchief  which  she 
took  from  her  own  neck.  "  Now  you 
look  quite  gay,"  she  laughed.  "  But  it 
may  prevent  you  from  taking  cold  in  the 
wound." 

"  Does  Lil  —  or  any  one  know  about 
this,  —  of  your  coming  here  ? "  asked  the 
wounded  outlaw. 

The  strength  of  his  voice  astonished 
her.  She  looked  at  him  oddly  as  she 
replied :  "  No  one  knows  except  the 
man  who  came  here  last  night,  —  the 
man  that  shot  you,  —  the  one  who  said 
his  name  was  Kid.  I  didn't  tell,  —  not 
because  I  feel  it  wrong  for  me  to  be  here, 
—  because  it  isn't  wrong,  and  I  don't 
care  at  all  what  people  think  ;  —  I  didn't 
keep  silent  for  that  reason,  but  because 
you  —  because,  —  well,  if  you  want  to 

178 


NUCLEUS    OF   THE   BLACK    FANCIES. 

publish  it  you  may,  but  it  isn't  any  of  my 
business !  ' 

"  Little  girl,"  the  man's  voice  but 
faintly  hid  the  depth  of  feeling  that 
stirred  his  soul,  "  I  don't  know  what 
strange  workings  of  Providence  sent  you 
here,  to  bring  a  poor  devil  back  to  a 
life  he  would  gladly  have  left,  —  to  a  life 
made  blacker  than  Hell  by  his  own  dark 
thoughts.  I  don't  see  why  you  have 
brought  your  sweet  self  to  the  very 
nucleus  of  those  dark  fancies  you  told  me 
about.  My  brain  is  clear.  I  think  that 
you  have  brought  me  nearer  to  a  sort  of 
Heaven,  the  harmony  of  your  own  pure 
soul.  It  is  something  to  have  lived  a 
death  for.  No,  I  haven't  finished,  — 
just  one  moment.  If  any  harm  comes 
to  you  through  this,  then  may  I  meet  a 
worse  death  than  this  would  have  been  !  " 

He  ceased  speaking.  Tears  sprang  to 
the  girl's  eyes.  For  the  time  she  felt  all 
the  misery,  the  pitifulness  of  his  life. 
With  bowed  head  she  spoke  :  —  "  You 
must  not  speak  so,  or  think  so.  —  If  harm 
comes  to  me,  that  is  my  affair,  —  and 

179 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

God's.  You  are  not  responsible  for  my 
welfare.  You  have  your  own  life  to  look 
out  for,  —  and  your  own  duties.  Your 
first  duty  is  to  get  wrell,  so  you  must  not 
talk  again  until  you've  eaten  something 
and  rested  well.  I  will  get  you  some  of 
the  beef  tea  that  Jerry  made  for  you." 

During  the  next  hour,  Marjie  kept  the 
boy  busy  moving  about  doing  small  tasks 
for  her,  and  when  she  mounted  the  gray 
pony  to  ride  back  to  the  ranch,  the 
interior  of  the  cabin  wore  a  different 
aspect,  and  the  man  slept  soundly  and 
naturally. 

The  girl  would  have  been  better  pleased 
to  have  left  the  pony  for  Jerry's  use,  but 
she  thought  that  if  she  rode  her  own 
horse  back  to  the  ranch  at  so  early  an 
hour,  it  might  be  a  difficult  matter  to 
explain  how  she  happened  to  meet  with 
Jerry  and  make  the  exchange.  Untruths 
were  distasteful  to  her.  She  thought 
that  one,  at  least,  might  be  avoided,  and 
possibly  a  few  embarrassing  questions,  if 
she  went  a  short  distance  out  of  her  way 
and  looked  in  upon  Taggie. 

180 


NUCLEUS    OF   THE    BLACK   FANCIES. 

She  did  so,  and  found  the  young  girl 
assisting  her  mother  with  the  family 
washing,  while  Frost  with  bandaged 
hand  sat  serenely  near.  The  other  sis 
ters  were  out  of  sight. 

1 'aggie  nodded  brightly,  and  squeezing 
the  soap-suds  from  her  small  red  hands, 
ran  up  to  Marjie. 

"  I  see  that  you  are  already  doing  pen 
ance,"  laughed  Marjie,  "  and  that  very 
early  in  the  morning.  I  intended  to 
come  last  evening  to  inquire  if  Frost's 
hand  was  better,  but  I  met  Jerry  out 
there  on  the  road,  and  we  went  for  a 
ride.  How  is  she  ?  I  can  only  stay  a 
moment,  for  I  must  go  back  and  straighten 
up  my  room." 

"  She,  —  umph  !  If  it  ain't  one  thing, 
it's  another  !  I  generally  do  pay  for  my 
sins  on  wash-day.  If  I  didn't  have  to 
work,  I'd  go  home  with  you.  I'd  skip 
it  all,  anyway,  if  it  wasn't  for  Ma,  but  I 
ain't  agoin'  to  let  her  do  it  all,  and  them 
big  lubbers  of  girls  layin'  around  doin' 
nothing  !  I  wish  I'd  known  you  an'  Jerry 
were  out  last  night,  I'd  'a'gone  with  you. 

181 


MARJIE   OF  THE    LOWER   RANCH. 

He  don't  like  to  come  here  much  on  Pa's 
account,  but  just  wait  till  I  get  a  little 
older;  —  I  bet  I'll  have  things  different 
then  !  I  guess  you  must  'a'  been  swappin' 
horses,  ain't  you  ?  I  wouldn't  mind  trad 
ing  for  that  one,  but  I  wouldn't  trade 
Dandy.  No,  sir  !  Ain't  you  goin'  to 
get  down  ? " 

"No;  not  this  time,"  replied  her  friend; 
"  and  if  I  stay  much  longer,  I  won't  get 
any  breakfast  at  all." 

"  Well,  you're  right  smart  to  get 
around  like  this  before  you  eat,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Winter  from  over  her  washboard. 
"  Better  come  in  an*  get  a  snack." 

"  No,  thank  you,"  answered  Marjie, 
turning  the  pony  toward  the  road,  "  not 
this  time,  for  Mrs.  Howell  will  be  mak 
ing  preparations  for  me.  Good-bye, — 
and  Taggie,  when  you  get  time,  come 
down  and  we'll  go  for  a  ride." 

"  Sure   I  will !  "  called  the  young  girl. 


182 


CHAPTER    XX. 

AN    APPALLING    TRUTH. 

HEN  Marjie  reached  the  cor 
ral  at  the  ranch,  a  strange 
man  advanced  to  meet  her, 
and  in  a  good  Irish  brogue 
addressed  her.  "  Jist  wait  a  minute,  an' 
I'll  help  yez  down.  Sure,  an'  you're  an 
early  bird  to  get  out  in  the  rafreshin*  part 
o'  the  mornin'  !  Now,  I  could  just  as 
well  help  yez  down,  but  it's  an  inde- 
pendant  spirit  yez  have.  You  won't  ob 
ject  to  me  takin'  care  o'  the  critter,  will 
yez?  I've  been  after  seein'  that  animal 
before." 

"  You're  very  kind,"  answered  Marjie 
coolly,  "  but  I  prefer  to  take  care  of  the 
pony,  myself." 

The  Irishman  cocked  his  head  upon  one 
side  and  looked  at  her  curiously  as  she 
uncinched  the  saddle.  After  a  moment 

183 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

he  spoke  again :  "  Mebbe  yer  offended 
because  I  didn't  introduce  meself  to  yer. 
I  forgot  me  manners  intirely,  for  which 
I  beg  yer  pardon.  I'm  the  workin'  man 
here,  —  the  foreman,  an'  me  name's  Tim 
Brady.  If  I  can  be  of  any  sarvice  to  yer 
just  let  me  know.  I'm  wishin'  yez  good- 
mornin',  ma'am." 

Marjie's  face  dimpled  with  laughter 
from  behind  Lady.  Here  was  a  char 
acter  !  She  pointed  to  the  saddle  that 
she  had  placed  upon  the  ground.  "  I 
accept  your  services  and  your  acquaint 
ance  with  pleasure.  You  may  hang  that 
up  with  the  other  saddles,  since  you  are 
so  anxious  to  assist  me,  but  I  prefer  to 
take  care  of  Lady  myself." 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply  from  the 
ready  tongued  Irishman,  the  girl  walked 
quickly  away,  leading  by  the  bridle 
Jerry's  gray  pony.  Tim  opened  his 
mouth  to  speak,  then  thinking  better  of 
it,  stood  staring  after  her.  When  she 
reached  the  small  pasture,  the  Irishman 
ceased  his  staring,  closed  his  mouth  sud 
denly,  and  picking  up  the  saddle,  sham- 

184 


AN  APPALLING  TRUTH. 


bled  off  to  the  stable.  As  she  walked 
along  the  path  toward  the  house,  Marjie 
was  greeted  by  George  Howell  with  : 
"  Well,  I  thought  you  were  sound  asleep. 
You've  sure  come  it  on  us  this  morning  ! 
I  told  Lil  in  there  not  to  make  any 
noise  so  as  to  disturb  you,  and  she's  been 
walking  around  there  on  her  tiptoes. 
You  look  fine !  You  ought  to  go  out 
like  this  every  morning." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Marjie,  swinging  her 
hat  carelessly  by  its  long  strings,  "  I  be 
lieve  I  will,  for  it's  surely  invigorating. 
Have  you  been  to  breakfast  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  we  just  got  up  from  the  table, 
but  you  go  in  there,  and  Lil'll  fix  you 
out.  I've  got  to  ride  over  to  the  hay- 
camp." 

"  I've  just  had  the  honor  of  meeting 
your  Irishman,  —  your  foreman,  as  he 
calls  himself,"  she  remarked,  moving  on 
toward  the  house. 

Howell  laughed  slightly  and  seemed 
loath  to  leave  her.  "  Yes  ;  they  most  all 
call  themselves  that,"  he  answered,  think 
ing  more  x>f  the  girl  than  of  what  he  was 

185 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

saying.  "  But  I  always  look  after  my 
own  business.  In  the  summer  there's 
only  the  haying  here  on  the  ranch,  for 
the  sheep's  all  on  the  north  range ;  but 
I  have  to  be  away  a  good  deal,  —  more 
than  in  winter,  —  for  then  the  whole 
thing's  right  here  under  my  eye.  I  al 
most  wish  it  was  winter  now." 

"  How  can  you  say  that !  '"  exclaimed 
Marjie,  moving  backward  slowly.  "  This 
beautiful  summer !  It  is  a  grand  and 
glorious  privilege  just  to  live  and  breathe 
in  this  air  !  " 

Howell  stood  watching  her,  an  odd 
expression  upon  his  face,  until  she  disap 
peared  within  the  house. 

Marjie  ate  her  breakfast  in  time  with 
the  woman's  chatter.  To-day  she  did 
not  mind  it  in  the  least.  In  some  man 
ner  she  drew  a  certain  amount  of  amuse 
ment  from  it ;  and  the  woman,  to  do  her 
justice,  appreciated  the  girl's  attentive  in 
terest,  and  soon  felt  for  her  a  stronger 
liking  than  she  had  before  experienced 
for  any  one. 

Marjie  could  not  return   her  affection, 

186 


AN  APPALLING  TRUTH. 


but  the  woman  probably  never  knew  it, 
nor  did  she  realize  the  great  pity  that 
gradually  formed  and  grew  in  the  girl's 
heart  for  her.  While  she  lingered  at  the 
breakfast  table,  George  Ho  well  rode  up 
to  the  house,  and  throwing  the  bridle- 
reins  to  the  ground,  walked  with  clink 
ing  spurs  hurriedly  through  the  open 
doorway,  and  carelessly  seated  himself 
near  the  girl  who  half  rose  as  he  entered. 

"  Here,  don't  let  me  frighten  you  out," 
said  Howell,  "  I've  just  come  in  for  a 
minute,  anyway,  before  I  go  away.  It's 
going  to  be  a  hot  day." 

Marjie  sank  back  into  her  former  posi 
tion,  a  quaint  smile  of  amusement  upon 
her  face.  "  You  people  who  live  in 
these  mountains  do  not  know  what  a 
'  hot '  day  means.  You  should  live  in 
California  or  down  there  on  the  prairie 
where  Tom  and  Kitty  live.  Then  you 
might  talk  !  You  ought  to  be  the  hap 
piest  people  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  —  if 
weather  has  any  influence  on  one's  hap 
piness." 

"  I    don't  believe   that   I   quite  under- 

187 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

stand  what  that  word  means,"  remarked 
Howell,  in  a  lower  tone.  Then  leaning 
toward  her,  he  continued,  "  But  I've  often 
wondered,  —  lately.  I  never  used  to 
think  much  about  it,  one  way  or  another. 
I  suppose  you  understand  it  well  enough, 
—  what  it  means  ?  " 

Marjie  looked  at  him  searchingly  for 
an  instant,  as  though  compelled  by  some 
strong  power  to  fathom  the  hidden  mean 
ing  of  his  words ;  and  down  in  depths 
deeper  than  she  had  ever  realized  she 
found  the  truth,  —  recognized  it,  felt  it, 
and  then  fearlessly  dismissed  it  as  a  thought 
unworthy  of  her  to  entertain.  But  for  a 
time  the  thing  stayed  by  her. 

"  Happiness,"  she  said  slowly,  as  if 
weighing  the  word,  "  I  have  been  taught 
that  it  is  here  for  all  the  world  alike. 
We  take  it  or  we  leave  it.  Our  lives  from 
day  to  day  determine  that." 

"But  if  one  loses  it; --what  then?" 
asked  the  man.  "  Isn't  there  some  chance 
of  getting  it  back  again  ?  Is  it  gone  for 
ever?" 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me  ?  "  Marjie  quer- 

188 


AN  APPALLING  TRUTH. 


led.  "  I  do  not  know  the  extent  of  your 
-  of  the  unhappiness  !  "  Then  in  a 
softer  tone,  she  continued  :  "  I  only  know 
this,  that  happiness  can  only  come  through 
truth  ;  —  that  it  is  inseparable  from  it,  — 
from  honesty  and  justice  and  kindness, 
—  and  all  that  goes  to  make  up  a  good 
life." 

Howell  did  not  look  at  her  as  she 
ceased  speaking.  She  remained  silent 
for  a  moment,  then  suddenly  springing 
up,  exclaimed  in  her  own  bright  man 
ner  : 

"  Come,  wake  up  !  Get  out  into  this 
glorious  air,  and  if  you  listen  well  you 
will  hear  a  sermon  such  as  no  human 
voice  can  preach.  If  you  listen  and  can't 
hear  it,  I  advise  you  to  take  the  '  starva 
tion  cure,'  for  your  digestion  must  be 
badly  out  of  order." 

They  went  outside  of  the  house,  and 
she  stood  near  him  when  he  mounted, 
When  his  horse  had  gone  a  dozen  yards^ 
he  wheeled  it  around  and  came  back  to 
her.  "  Tell  Lil,  when  she  gets  through 
her  confab  with  that  Irishman, 

189 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

won't  be  home  till  evening.  Hello,  here 
comes  Jerry  !  Well,  have  a  good  time. 
I've  got  to  go.  I'm  having  some  trouble 
with  the  men  over  there.  Why,  what's 
the  matter  ?  " 

Her  face  had  grown  very  pale.  He 
looked  at  her  wonderingly.  Then  the 
red  came  into  his  own  face  and  he  leaned 
nearer  to  her. 

"  The  trouble  don't  amount  to  much. 
Don't  worry !  Good-by,  little  girl." 
He  turned  and  rode  quickly  away. 

It  is  doubtful  if  she  heard  his  words, 
for  every  thought  was  concentrated  on 
the  approaching  boy  and  what  his  sudden 
appearance  might  possibly  signify.  Fears 
of  the  worst  went  through  her  mind,  It 
was  scarcely  two  minutes  from  the  time 
that  she  first  saw  Jerry  approaching  until 
he  rode  up  to  her,  yet  so  rapidly  had  her 
thoughts  come  that  she  had  already  fig 
ured  out  how  quickly  Lady  could  be 
saddled,  what  excuses  she  would  make, 
and  another  mad  ride  up  to  the  Retreat. 
—  All  this  and  many  details,  yet  she 
waited  in  suspense  for  Jerry. 

190 


AN    APPALLING    TRUTH. 


"  Well,  why  don't  you  say  something  ?  " 
she  sharply  demanded,  as  the  boy,  having 
dismounted  some  distance  away,  walked 
leisurely  toward  her. 

"  Good-morning,"  he  replied,  aston 
ished  at  her  tone.  "  I  thought  I'd  come 
down  an'  change  horses  with  you,  — • 
that  is  if  you  want  to  change." 

Marjie  recovered  herself  instantly.  A 
low  "  Oh,"  took  with  it  all  the  fear  and 
foreboding,  and  the  strange  weight  that 
had  settled  down  upon  her  heart.  "  I 
didn't  know  but  that  you  had  come  to 
spend  the  day,  go  fishing,  or  something 
of  that  sort,"  she  said. 

He  looked  at  her  reproachfully.  "  You 
never  thought  nothin'  like  that.  There 
ain't  anyone  around,  is  there  ?  You  see 
it  was  like  this ;  he  was  sleeping  just 
fine,  an'  I  thought  that  seeing  there 
was  a  lot  of  things  I'd  ought  to  get  for 
him,  I'd  come  now  an'  get  it  over  with. 
We're  pretty  short  of  some  things  in  the 
grub  line.  It's  all  right  for  well  folks, 
but  when  someone's  sick,  it's  a  different 
matter." 

191 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

"  Are  you  sure  he  was  sleeping  soundly, 
—  that  he  won't  waken  while  you  are 
away  ? "  she  asked  anxiously. 

"  Sure's  I  can  be,"  he  replied,  uneasy 
and  surprised  at  the  note  of  concern  in 
her  voice.  "  He'll  be  all  right.  I  ain't 
been  gone  more'n  a  half  hour  yet,  for 
I  rode  like  blazes.  But  if  you  say  so, 
I'll  turn  right  around  an'  go  back  to 
him." 

"  That  would  be  folly.  What  did  you 
come  for  ?  I  could  have  brought  what 
ever  you  wanted,  or  I  could  have  stayed 
there  while  you  came  after  the  things. 
I  dorit  like  leaving  him  alone.  What  if 
that  man  who  shot  him  came  back  to 
finish  his  work  ?  I  thought  when  you 
came  that  you  brought  bad  news.  I 
never  dreamed  that  you  would  be  so 
rash !  " 

"  What  man  shot  him  ? "  His  face 
had  turned  quite  white.  Marjie  did  not 
reply.  He  waited  for  an  instant,  then 
turned  about  quickly  as  if  to  retrace  his 
steps.  At  the  corner  of  the  house  he 
stopped  and  braced  himself  against  the 

192 


AN   APPALLING   TRUTH. 


log  wall.      Marjie  came   up   behind   him 
and  took  him  by  the  arm. 

"  Come,  what  is  it  you  want  to  get  ? 
Tell  me  so  that  you  may  get  the  things 
and  go.  Never  mind  who  shot  him. 
Ask  him  if  you  want  to  know." 


193 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

WHEN    YOU    ARE    WELL     I     WILL     NOT     BE 
SO    PARTICULAR." 

^HERE'S    a   lot    of  things    I 
ought     to     get,"     answered 
Jerry.      "  But  I  reckon  if  I 
get  everything  at  once,  Lil 
'11  think  it's  kind  of  funny." 

"  Yes,  that  is  so,"  said  Marjie  thought 
fully  ;  "  but  I'll  tell  you  what  to  do, 
Jerry.  First,  go  and  change  horses,  and 
then  when  that's  done,  ask  Lil  for  the 
principal  things,  including  eggs,  for  I 
can't  find  them  to  save  my  life.  I  know 
some  of  the  things  that  you  need,  and  I 
intended  to  bring  them  up  there  this 
afternoon.  This  morning  I  couldn't  find 
anything.  I'll  get  some  cloth  for  band 
ages,  and  some  salve,  and  —  I  wish  I 
knew  where  the  woman  keeps  her 
whiskey." 

194 


"WHEN    YOU    ARE   WELL.' 


"  It's  in  a  demijohn  under  the  head  of 
her  bed,"  he  answered  promptly.  "  That 
is,  if  it  ain't  empty.  I'll  hurry  up  an' 
change  this  saddle  to  Lady,  an'  come 
back  after  the  things." 

When  Jerry  returned  from  the  small 
pasture,  Marjie  had  secured  everything 
that  she  thought  would  be  needful  to  the 
sick  man,  and  it  was  well  that  she  had 
done  so,  for  the  inhabitants  of  the  Re 
treat  were  nearly  out  of  provisions,  and 
if  medicines  had  been  added  to  the  long 
list  that  the  boy  requested  of  the  woman, 
her  suspicion  would  doubtlessly  have  been 
aroused.  As  it  was,  she  merely  remarked 
in  her  characteristic  way,  as  she  handed 
him  the  eggs  tightly  tied  in  the  end  of 
a  flour  sack,  - 

"  Seems  like  you  fellers  are  getting  a 
little  extravagant,  ain't  you  ?  Flour  an' 
eggs  an'  butter,  too,  —  but  I  guess  His 
Highness  knows  what  he  wants.  I  was 
tellin'  George  the  last  time  he  went  to 
town  that  he'd  better  find  out  what  you 
fellers  wanted  in  the  grub  line,  an'  bring 
it  out,  for  you  must  be  gettin'  pretty  short 

195 


MARJIE  OF  THE  LOWER  RANCH. 

by  this  time.  He'll  be  agoin'  in  again 
pretty  soon,  and  you  can  send  for  what 
you  want.  It'll  soon  be  time  to  send  for 
the  winter  supply.  I  reckon  you  won't 
need  as  much  as  you  did  last  winter,  will 
you  ?  Tell  His  Highness  to  come  down 
here  and  get  a  square  meal  sometime. 
It's  been  a  long  time  since  I  seen  him. 
Well,  you'll  be  pretty  well  loaded  down. 
Here,  Marjie's  got  something  for  you. 
Some  more  papers,  I  reckon." 

"  No,"  said  Marjie,  with  a  sparkle  of 
merriment  in  her  eyes,  "  not  papers  this 
time,  but  something  that  will  serve  to 
occupy  the  time  equally  well.  Now 
carry  it  carefully,  Jerry.  Come  down 
again  'when  you  can  stay  longer!' 

Marjie  took  the  woman  to  one  side 
and  talked  with  her  so  that  she  would 
not  delay  the  boy.  Jerry  took  the  hint 
and  rode  quickly  away,  for  he  was  filled 
with  anxiety  which  Marjie's  words  had 
brought  out.  What  if  the  man  who 
had  shot  Ike  should  return  ?  Nothing 
would  be  more  natural.  He  had  won 
dered  who  it  was  that  had  committed 

196 


"WHEN    YOU    ARE   WELL." 

the  crime  until  his  brain  reeled,  then  he 
had  thrust  the  thought  to  one  side,  mean 
ing  to  take  it  up  again  when  Ike  should 
be  fully  recovered.  He  felt  sure  that 
Marjie  knew  ;  -  -  but  how  ? 

How  wonderfully  knowing  she  was, 
and  how  indispensable  she  had  already 
become  to  them, — to  these  outlaws! 

The  boy  was  not  an  outlaw,  but  it  was 
the  name  that  he  had  always  called  him 
self.  Before  Marjie  came  he  had  taken 
a  certain  pride  in  it,  but  the  mere  asso 
ciation  with  her  had  brought  out  all  that 
was  highest  and  best  in  his  nature.  She 
had  accomplished  what  Ike  had  failed 
to  do.  But  then  Ike  was  a  poor  object- 
lesson  for  the  boy. 

It  happened  that  when  Jerry  reached 
the  Retreat,  he  found  his  friend  still  sleep 
ing  as  when  he  had  left  him,  nor  was 
there  any  sign  of  an  intruder.  Yet  in 
the  light  of  what  Marjie  had  said  to  him, 
he  felt  that  his  fears  had  not  been  ground 
less  ;  and  he  made  a  resolve  that  in  the 
future  he  would  not  leave  Ike  until  he 
was  able  to  take  care  of  himself. 

197 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

In  the  afternoon  of  that  same  day  the 
sharp  ears  of  the  half-dozing  boy  caught 
the  sound  of  a  horse's  hoofs  as  they 
struck  the  stony  creek  bottom  in  the 
entrance  of  the  Retreat. 

He  jumped  to  his  feet,  fully  awake, 
and  listened  intently.  It  could  be  no 
other  than  Marjie,  he  reasoned,  yet  the 
usual  anxiety  came  upon  him,  and  he 
waited  in  the  shadow  of  the  room. 

"  Jerry,"  quietly  called  the  man  from 
his  bunk. 

"  I'm  here,"  responded  the  boy. 

"  Someone's  coming.  Bring  me  my 
gun." 

"  It  ain't  no  one  but  Marjie.  Don't 
you  worry !  Here's  your  gun  if  you 
want  it,  but  you  ain't  goin'  to  need  it," 
said  Jerry  reassuringly,  as  he  tiptoed  to 
the  man's  bedside  and  handed  him  a  six- 
shooter. 

The  horse  drew  nearer,  crashing 
through  the  brush  near  the  cabin.  No 
outlaw  would  have  approached  in  that 
manner.  The  man  on  the  bed  smiled 
and  placed  his  gun  out  of  sight. 

198 


"WHEN    YOU   ARE   WELL." 

"Jerry,"  called  a  sweet  voice,  then  the 
girl  herself  pushed  the  door  ajar  and 
peered  into  the  cabin. 

The  boy  was  beside  her  instantly,  greet 
ing  her  with  a  smile.  There  was  no 
hesitation  in  her  manner  now,  as  she  in 
quired  about  the  sick  man,  and  went 
straightway  to  him. 

"  My  little  physician,"  he  said,  raising 
his  hand  toward  her.  His  eyes  said  more 
than  that.  She  read  it  well  and  did  not 
reject  it.  Laughing  softly  in  her  be 
witching  way,  she  drew  a  box  near  the 
bunk  and  seated  herself  beside  him. 
She  brought  more  than  sunshine  in  the 
half-hour  of  light  chatter  that  followed. 
Then  she  bethought  herself  of  the  boy 
and  of  his  sleep-laden  eyes  that  watched 
her  as  she  talked.  At  her  request  he 
reluctantly  stretched  himself  upon  a  bunk  ; 
and  Marjie,  promising  to  waken  him 
when  she  left,  sat  beside  His  Highness  in 
silence. 

Finally  Jerry  slept,  and  then  the  girl 
went  about  many  little  tasks  that  required 
attention,  preparing  a  lunch  for  the  sick 

199 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

man,  and  sitting  beside  him  until  he  had 
eaten.  When  she  removed  the  tin  dishes 
he  motioned  to  her  to  come  back  and 
stay  near  him. 

"  I  think  I  may  say  that  I  am  well 
now,"  he  said. 

"  A  remarkable  recovery,"  she  an 
swered.  "  Then  you  no  longer  require 
my  services." 

"  I  don't  see  how  I  can  dispense  with 
them  now.  You  wouldn't  be  so  cruel !  " 

"No,"  she  answered  dreamily;  "not 
as  long  as  you  really  require  me ;  not 
while  I  can  be  of  any  assistance  to  you. 
I  am  getting  used  to  coming  here  now. 
I  like  it.  The  first  time  I  rode  up  here 
by  mistake,  —  weeks  ago,  —  I  felt  that 
in  some  manner  the  place  belonged  to 
me.  The  feeling  has  never  left  me.  Yet 
it  seems  strange  that  I  should  be  here 
now,  —  like  this.  It  won't  be  so  easy  for 
you  to  send  me  away  again." 

She  looked  up  at  him  and  smiled 
queerly  at  the  recollection. 

"  You  didn't  think  that  I  felt  the  way 
I  acted  that  day,  did  you  ? " 

200 


"WHEN    YOU    ARE    WELL." 

"I  didn't  know.  It  was  the  uncer 
tainty  of  it  that "  —  She  stopped 
abruptly. 

"  That  what  ?  "   he  asked. 

A  quick  laugh  accompanied  by  the 
ever  ready  coloring,  then  she  answered, 

"  That  cast  a  rosy  tint  of  interest  over 
the  whole  episode.  I  think  that's  what 
I  meant  to  say  but  I  got  sort  of 
mixed." 

"  Then  you  thought  of  it  after 
wards  ? " 

"  I  have  a  memory,"  she  said. 

A  silence  ensued.  Finally  she  looked 
up  at  him,  compelled  by  his  own  gaze. 
Her  eyes  met  his  and  lingered,  then 
something  crept  into  their  depths  ;  —  it 
might  have  been  the  reflection  from  his 
own.  It  startled  him.  A  tightening  of 
expression  settled  upon  his  face.  He 
spoke  deliberately :  - 

"  Do  you  know  who  I  am?"  Then 
without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  contin 
ued  :  "You  do  not, --not  what  the 
world  calls  me.  Possibly  you  have  an 
idea  that  I  am  a  doubtful  character,  I 
201 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

am,  —  and  worse.  I  am  an  outlaw. 
I  want  you  to  know  it,  —  to  realize  who 
it  is  that  you  have  befriended.  I  want 
you  to  know  the  worst.  I  am  a  fugitive, 
outlawed  from  civilization  and  respect 
ability.  I've  been  here  for  years  in  hid 
ing,  just  because  I  prefer  it  to  hanging. 

"  I've  never  had  a  trial.  I  escaped 
before  they  had  a  chance  to  try  me,  — 
rightly.  It  was  a  dead  case  against  me. 
-  Even  if  it  had  not  been  I  could  never 
have  gone  back  into  the  world  with  such 
a  charge  put  upon  me.  I  wanted  to  live, 
—  to  breathe  the  fresh  air,  and  to  see 
God's  blue  sky  above  me.  So  I  man 
aged  to  escape  and  found  myself  a  pris 
oner  in  this  little  valley,  —  a  branded 
outlaw  !  There,  you  have  it.  No  need 
of  details.  They  do  not  alter  the  cir 
cumstance  or  make  me  anything  better 
than  I  am,  —  an  outlaw,  —  one  of  the 
wolves  of  humanity." 

"  Don't  say  that,"  exclaimed  Marjie. 
"  You  wouldn't  harm  a  single  living 
thing  !  I  do  not  believe  that  you  could  ! 
You  thought  to  frighten  me  by  telling 

202 


"WHEN    YOU   ARE    WELL." 

me  this.  You  have  not  done  so.  I 
knew  that  you  were  hiding  for  some 
reason,  —  I  even  thought  that  you  were 
the  leader  of  a  band  of  desperadoes.  I 
have  learned  better.  I  will  tell  you 
what  I  think,  —  that  you  never  com 
mitted  a  great  crime  of  any  sort,  —  that 
it  is  an  utter  impossibility !  And  you 
never  ran  away  because  you  were  guilty, 
but  because  you  were  not  guilty.  If  you 
had  been  guilty  you  would  have  taken 
your  medicine  like  a  man,  but  because 
you  were  not,  you  loved  your  life.  You 
see  I  know  you,  even  in  so  short  a  time. 
I  know  you  and  —  I  like  you.  I  am 
glad  you  told  me  this,  even  though  you 
did  it  to  astonish  and  frighten  me.  If 
you  care  to  tell  me,  I  would  like  to  know 
something  more  about  this  sad  time  in 
your  life." 

As  she  spoke,  he  looked  at  her  in 
wonderment. 

"  There  is  nothing  I  would  not  tell 
you  now."  He  spoke  softly.  "  It  may 
bore  you,  but  then  there  is  not  very 
much  of  it  to  tell.  My  father  died  be- 

203 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

fore  I  remember.  My  mother  after 
wards  married  a  man  whom  I  always 
respected,  but  never  learned  to  love. 
Our  wills  very  often  clashed,  and  being 
an  only  child  with  a  considerable  fortune 
left  me  by  my  father,  I  have  no  doubt 
but  that  I  was  wilful,  and  to  my  step 
father's  high-strung  nature  a  constant 
irritation. 

"  When  I  came  home  from  school  the 
last  time,  I  found  that  my  step-father's 
only  nephew  had  taken  a  place  in  our 
small  family.  But  I  had  outgrown  some 
of  my  boyhood's  foolishness,  and  I  can 
not  remember  that  I  ever  thought  of 
resenting  his  presence  there.  But  I  never 
liked  him,  and  I  never  even  took  the 
pains  to  make  his  acquaintance. 

"  The  summer  after  I  left  school,  we 
were  camping  in  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
—  a  small  party  of  us,  my  step-father 
and  two  of  his  choicest  friends,  and  my 
step-cousin,  besides  myself. 

"  One  day  my  step-father  reproached 
me  for  my  indifferent  treatment  of  his 
nephew.  I  resented  it,  and  my  words  to 

204 


"WHEN    YOU    ARE    WELL." 

him,  overheard  by  his  friends,  were  not 
particularly  choice.  I  saddled  my  horse 
and  started  for  the  nearest  railroad  point. 
That  night  I  slept  on  the  prairie.  Two 
days  later  I  was  arrested  at  a  ranch-house 
within  fifteen  miles  of  the  railroad  town 
for  which  I  was  making. 

"  My  step-father  had  been  found  dead 
in  camp  the  evening  of  the  day  I  left. 
He  had  been  shot  through  the  back,  and 
had  a  bullet  hole  in  his  heart.  I  was  at 
once  suspected  of  the  crime.  Everything 
went  to  prove  my  guilt.  A  brief  trial 
was  given  me  in  that  town,  and  on  the 
march  to  the  prison  where  I  was  to  await 
trial  in  the  higher  courts,  I  escaped  and 
came  here.  That  is  ten  years  ago. 

"  These  years  have  passed  like  an  ugly 
dream,  —  and  now  you  have  come  !  That 
is  all  that  I  can  say  or  think  ;  — you  with 
your  trust  and  your  angel's  face  !  " 

She  placed  her  hand  softly  over  his 
mouth. 

"  Hush  !  A  sick  man  must  not  talk 
so  much.  See,  it  is  getting  late,  and  I 
must  go,  so  I  will  call  Jerry.  No,  you 

206 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

must  not  keep  my  hand  !  I  promise," 
she  said,  as  she  gently  disengaged  it, 
"  that  when  you  are  well,  I  will  not  be 
so  —  particular." 


205 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

A   FEW   QUESTIONS   FROM   THE   OTHER  SIDE. 

>USK  had  settled  down  over 
the  mountains.  Marjie  was 
riding  homeward.  Her  heart 
sang  a  new  song,  and  it  seemed 
as  though  it  must  burst  with  its  glad  ful 
ness  and  strange  happiness,  painful  in  its 
intensity.  She  loved  with  all  the  wild 
impulsiveness  of  her  nature,  and  knowing 
it,  gloried  in  the  fact.  To  her  it  seemed 
no  secret.  She  would  gladly  have  told  it 
far  and  near,  sharing  her  happiness  with 
all  the  world. 

Something  of  this  showed  upon  her 
face,  causing  the  dark-visaged  man  who 
waited  for  her  in  the  brush  to  draw  back 
and  hesitate.  But  the  light  in  the  girl's 
face  did  not  wholly  unnerve  him,  for  he 
sprang  in  front  of  her  and  caught  the 
horse  firmly  by  the  bridle.  The  bay 

207 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

leaped  backward,  nearly  unseating  its 
rider,  but  Marjie  looked  as  cool  as  though 
she  had  been  expecting  just  such  a 
surprise. 

"  Well,  I  reckon  you  ain't  got  quite 
the  advantage  you  had  last  time  !  Now 
I  just  want  to  ask  you  a  few  questions, 
an'  I've  got  the  gun  on  my  side  !  See 
that  you  tell  the  truth  !  "  His  black  eyes 
blazed. 

She  looked  at  him  piercingly,  then 
throwing  back  her  head  laughed  immod 
erately.  Evidently  the  situation  possessed 
considerable  humor  for  her. 

"  Shut  up  !  You  ain't  asked  to  laugh. 
Listen  to  wrhat  I've  got  to  say,  will 
you  ?  "  He  had  little  patience. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said  between 
peals  of  laughter.  "  Really,  I  can't  help 
it !  —  Your  hat  —  looks  so  comical  — 
over  on  one  ear  !  —  " 

"  Umph, — nice  thing  to  laugh  about !  " 
he  exclaimed,  pulling  the  sombrero  down 
upon  his  head. 

Marjie  ceased  laughing,  leaned  slightly 
toward  him,  and  looked  at  it  critically. 

208 


QUESTIONS   FROM  THE  OTHER  SIDE. 

"  I  don't  like  the  way  you've  got  it  on 
now.  It  looks  worse  than  before.  Please 
let  me  show  you  how  you  should  wear  it. 
It  isn't  becoming  that  way,  and  it's  an 
awfully  pretty  hat.  It  goes  well  with 
your  style  and  complexion,  too.  Really, 
you  bachelors  who  have  no  women  about 
do  get  into  dreadful  ways  !  —  You  surely 
are  not  offended  because  I  just  mentioned 
it  to  you,  are  you  ?  You  must  not  mis 
understand  me,  because  I'd  feel  dreadfully 
if"  — 

"  Never  mind  the  hat !  That  ain't  my 
business  nor  yours  !  I  "  — 

"  But  a  hat  has  more  importance  than 
you  think,"  she  interrupted.  "  Now,  your 
hat  put  me  into  a  good  humor,  whereas 
I  ought  to  have  been  very  angry  with 
you  for  stopping  my  horse  in  that  uncere 
monious  manner.  —  Poor  horse  !  You 
frightened  him  nearly  to  death.  But  I 
will  overlook  it  if  he  will.  Oh,  yes, 
I  believe  you  said  that  you  wished  to 
talk  with  me  for  a  moment.  Please 
talk  rapidly,  for  I  am  in  a  dreadful 
hurry  !  " 

209 


MARJIE  OF  THE  LOWER  RANCH. 

"  Well,  you  take  the  cake,"  he  broke 
out. 

"  Yes,  perhaps,  but  talk  of  something 
besides  food,  for  it  reminds  me  that  I  am 
nearly  starved.  Been  to  supper?" 

"  Say,  now  look  a  here  !  Don't  you 
say  another  word  till  I  tell  you  to  speak  ! 
See  this  gun  ?  Now  answer  sharp,  an'  no 
more  blabbin'  !  Where  have  you  been  ?  " 

"  You  wish  me  to  speak  now  ?  You're 
sure  of  it  ? ' 

"  Answer  !  " 

"  Well,  you  must  swear  that  you'll 
never  breathe  a  word  of  it  to  any  living 
soul !  —  I  think  I  can  trust  you.  I've 
been  up  in  the  mountains.  You  see,  I've 
struck  it  rich  up  there,  but  the  prospect 
is  in  a  sort  of —  well,  undeveloped  state, 
and  it  wouldn't  do  to  tell  people  about 
it." 

She  looked  at  him  as  she  might  have 
done  had  he  been  her  most  confidential 
friend,  yet  her  heart  had  begun  to  boil 
with  sheer  hatred  of  him  for  the  injury 
she  thought  he  had  done  to  Ike.  She 
wished  to  gain  time  for  she  did  not  know 

210 


QUESTIONS   FROM   THE   OTHER   SIDE. 

what  his  object  might  be.  Her  ready 
mind  was  sifting  every  expression  of  his 
face  and  every  word  that  he  uttered. 

"  The  devil,  you've  struck  a  mine ! 
Girls  don't  prospect !  Why,  you  couldn't 
even  handle  a  spade,  let  alone  a  pick-ax  ! 
Where  else  have  you  been  ? ' 

"Honestly,  I'm  telling  you  the  truth. 
Do  you  think  that  I'd  lie?"  She  said 
this  in  an  injured  tone,  then  in  an  absent- 
minded  way  continued :  "  Of  course,  I 
don't  have  to  tell  you  who  was  with  me." 

"That's  just  what  you've  got  to  do! 
Hurry  up  about  it !  " 

He  had  been  quick  to  take  the  wrong 
scent.  She  felt  a  great  thankfulness  that 
he  had  done  so,  for  the  welfare  of  this 
man  so  hunted  and  wronged  meant 
already  more  to  her  than  life  itself.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  this  ruffian,  Kid,  was 
somewhat  uncertain  as  to  whether  or  not 
he  had  succeeded  in  killing  His  High 
ness,  and  was  taking  this  course  to  dis 
cover  the  truth,  or  possibly  the  existing 
state  of  affairs. 

Suddenly   Marjie    changed    her   tactics 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

and  showed  some  anger.  "  Now,  see 
here,  Mr.  Kid,  it's  my  own  business  who 
I  choose  to  —  go  with  !  You've  no  right 
to  question  me  like  this !  I  am  sure 
George  Howell  will  not  like  it,  and  I 
tell  you  right  now,  that  it  wouldn't  be 
healthy  for  you  if  His  Highness  found 
this  out !  But  if  you  will  attend  to  your 
own  affairs  in  the  future,  I  will  not  men 
tion  it  to  any  living  soul,  -  -  for  the 
actions  of  a  jealous  man  ought  simply  to 
be  ignored.  If  I  choose  in  the  future  to 
ride  with  His  Highness,  or  walk  with 
His  Highness,  or  talk  with  His  Highness, 
I  count  it  my  own  affair,  —  and  if  you 
ever  expect  me  to  be  friendly  with  you, 
you  will  refrain  hereafter  from  mention 
ing  the  matter  to  me  !  Now  let  go  of 
my  horse  !  It's  getting  late,  and  it  makes 
me  terribly  nervous  to  ride  in  the  dark  ! 
I  wish  you'd  go  down  to  the  ranch  with 
me.  I'm  hungry,  too.  Lil  will  have 
supper  waiting.  She  is  going  to  have 
Boston  baked  beans  and  fried  chicken. 
Aren't  you  hungry  ?  Get  your  horse  and 
come  along  with  me." 

212 


QUESTIONS   FROM  THE   OTHER   SIDE. 

He  had  loosened  his  grasp  from  the 
bridle  and  stood  nervously  scraping  his 
spur  into  the  ground.  So  she  had  been 
riding  with  His  Highness !  Then  he 
was  unhurt  and  about.  It  would  be 
safer  to  be  friends  with  the  girl.  She 
might  serve  as  a  shield  to  him  if  Ike  had 
found  him  out.  It  would  be  safer  that 
way.  And  so  she  thought  that  he  was 
jealous  !  Then  he  must  have  been  mis 
taken.  She  could  not  possibly  suspect 
him  or  know  the  truth  of  the  matter. 
So  he  reasoned. 

"Well,  aren't  you  coming  ?  "  she  asked 
impatiently. 

"  Don't  know  but  I  might  as  well, 
bein'  as  it's  supper  time,"  he  answered, 
then  he  stalked  through  the  bushes  and 
secured  his  horse. 

Marjie  watched  him  anxiously.  Now 
that  the  danger  to  Ike  seemed  averted, 
she  felt  a  sudden  collapse.  Then  the 
thought  of  her  love  came  to  her  with  all 
its  strengthening  power,  stimulating  her 
for  what  lay  ahead.  She  had  placed  her 
self  on  the  common  level  with  this  ruffian, 

213 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 


and  the  thought  was  not  pleasant.  No 
other  way  had  occurred  to  her.  In  all 
probability  no  other  way  would  have 
effected  the  same  result,  -  -  would  have 
reached  his  vanity  and  so  deadened  his 
wit. 

The  ride  down  to  the  ranch  was  un 
eventful.  Kid  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
his  speech,  and  Marjie,  busy  with  her 
own  thoughts,  was  thankful  for  it. 

George  Howell  had  not  returned,  — 
Lil  was  nowhere  in  sight,  so  the  girl 
went  straightway  to  her  own  room,  and 
for  a  time,  at  least,  was  alone  with  her 
strange,  new  happiness. 


214 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

A    PAN    OF    DOUGHNUTS    AND    A 
PROPOSITION. 

,HE  Irishman,  Tim,  sat  high  up 
on  one  end  of  the  well-filled 
wood-box,  within  easy  reach 
of  a  pan  of  tempting  dough 
nuts  that  was  placed  upon  the  back  of 
the  stove. 

Lil,  her  face  a  purplish,  apoplectic  hue, 
leaned  over  a  kettle  of  smoking  lard, 
carefully  turning  the  plump,  brown  cakes. 
Occasionally  she  glanced  up  reprovingly 
at  Tim,  pretending  to  scold  him  for  the 
regular  disappearance  of  the  doughnuts. 
In  reality  she  enjoyed  the  compliment 
which  he  paid  to  her  cookery,  and  also 
the  many  questionable  compliments  which 
his  ready  tongue  formed  for  her  satisfac 
tion  and  pleasure. 

215 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

It  is  remarkable,  but  the  woman  had 
some  vanity.  What  woman  is  not  pleased 
at  some  time  with  well-put  flattery,  even 
though  the  lie  is  apparent  ?  In  the  Irish 
man  Lil  found  a  congenial  spirit ;  one 
who  seemingly  understood  her,  who  could 
talk  with  her  in  her  own  way,  and  occa 
sionally  drink  with  her. 

"  You're  a  terrible  big  eater,  Tim,  for 
a  man  of  your  size,"  exclaimed  the  woman, 
with  a  side-long  look  at  him. 

"  It's  yerself  that's  standin'  there  so 
pretty  loike  wid  the  red  in  yer  cheeks 
that's  encouragin'  of  me  !  " 

"Now,  Tim  !  "  she  expostulated  as 
usual,  standing  erect  and  brushing  back 
the  wisps  of  hair  from  her  face.  Tim 
eyed  her  gravely  as  he  finished  his  last 
doughnut  and  settled  back  against  the 
wall  for  a  comfortable  smoke. 

"  I  ain't  a  sayin'  that  yer  beautiful  or 
anything  near  it,  but  to  me  yer  good 
lookin',  an'  you  can  bate  any  round-up 
cook  in  the  country  !  That's  what  you 
can  do  !  If  I  had  a  wife  loike  you,  I'd 
be  a  happy  man.  Not  but  what  yer  as 

216 


A    PAN    OF   DOUGHNUTS. 

well  off  as  it  is,  but  I'd  sure  be  appre- 
ciatin'  such  a  person  as  yerself !  " 

The  Irishman  lighted  his  pipe.  Lil 
slowly  took  up  the  last  of  her  doughnuts, 
a  thoughtful  expression  gradually  settling 
upon  her  face.  She  smiled  grimly  as 
she  shoved  the  pan  of  grease  to  the  back 
of  the  stove  to  cool.  When  she  had 
packed  the  doughnuts  away  in  a  three- 
gallon  crock,  she  walked  over  to  where 
Tim  sat  and  stood  before  him  a  moment 
in  silence. 

"  Tim,  you're  a  pleasant  man  to  get 
along  with,"  she  began.  Then  after  a 
short  pause,  in  which  the  Irishman  re 
moved  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  and 
looked  at  her  inquiringly,  she  continued, 
"  I've  known  you  fer  a  good  many  years, 
an'  in  all  that  time  you've  treated  me  like 
a  lady.  Other  folks  ain't  always  done 
that.  But  I  ain't  complainin'.  It  don't 
always  happen  that  folks  are  meant  for 
each  other,  an'  if  they  don't  pull  together 
it's  always  been  my  idea  that  they  ought 
to  quit  right  there.  Not  but  what  George 
an'  me  get  along  all  right  ordinarily,  —  it 

217 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 


ain't  that,  but  I  reckon  if  I  hadn't  had 
a  pretty  temptin'  amount  o'  money,  he 
wouldn't  'a'  been  so  dead  set  on  marryin' 
me.  Now,  with  you  it's  different.  Money 
don't  cut  no  ice  with  you.  It's  me  you 
like,  for  you  ain't  never  seen  a  cent's 
worth  of  my  money.  But  I've  got  some 
salted  down.  'Bout  fifty  thousand  odd 
dollars.  It's  always  been  my  idea  to  get 
in  some  town  an'  start  in  the  liquor  busi 
ness,  but  I've  never  dared  hint  about 
it  to  George.  That  ain't  high-toned 
enough  for  him,  —  sort  o'  out  of  his  line. 
It's  natural  for  me  to  take  to  that  be 
cause  my  folks  made  their  money  that 
way ;  an'  there's  lots  of  money  in  it. 
You  know  that  because  you've  been  in 
the  saloon  business  yourself.  Now,  I 
may  take  a  notion  in  my  head  to  break 
loose  an'  go  my  own  way.  Are  you  in 
with  me  on  it  ? >: 

"  Wid  me  body  an'  soul,  me  darlin' !  " 
exclaimed  Tim,  dropping  his  pipe  and 
taking  one  of  her  hands  in  both  his  own. 

"  Well,  I  ain't  ready  to  go  yet,  so  leave 
go  o  my  hand  !  "  she  remonstrated. 

218 


A    PAN    OF   DOUGHNUTS. 

"  Cruel,  cruel  !  Why,  I  could  hold 
that  till  the  river  freezes  over !  An'  I 
swear  I'll  be  that  thrue  to  yez  all  the 
days  of  me  natural  loife  that" 

A  sweet  girlish  face,  framed  by  the 
small  open  window,  looked  in  upon  them, 
interrupting  the  vows  so  neatly  spoken. 
The  woman  drew  back  into  the  room, 
embarrassment  expressed  as  plainly  as  any 
feeling  could  possibly  be  in  her  voice 
and  in  her  manner. 

"  Well,  land  sakes !  You're  just  in 
time  !  I've  got  some  mighty  fine  dough 
nuts  here.  I  was  just  agoin'  to  put  them 
down  cellar.  Come  right  in,  an'  get 
some." 

Marjie  laughed  softly.  That  was  one 
of  her  traits.  If  she  realized  the  situa 
tion,  her  looks  did  not  betray  the  fact. 
She  answered  quickly,  — 

"  Oh,  thank  you.  May  I  bring  a  par 
ticular  friend  of  mine  in  to  the  feast  ?  " 
Without  waiting  for  an  answer,  she  dis 
appeared  from  the  window,  and  the  two 
occupants  of  the  kitchen  heard  her 
speak  to  some  one  outside  the  house. 

219 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

Then  she  came  in,  closely  followed  by 
Taggie. 

"  We're  both  nearly  starved  !  "  ex 
claimed  Marjie,  placing  a  chair  for  her 
companion,  and  seating  herself  in  an 
other.  "  Starved  and  tired  !  A  most 
terrible  combination.  We've  been  riding 
all  day,  and  never  saw  a  thing  except  two 
wolves  and  one  coyote.  The  wolves  got 
away,  —  in  fact,  they  were  away  and  had 
sense  enough  to  stay  away.  But  the  coy 
ote  !  I  don't  think  that  it  will  feast  on 
any  more  innocent  lambs,  —  at  least  not 
until  it  is  reincarnated.  I  suppose  it  will 
be  a  wolf  next  time,  and  its  taste  for 
lambs  will  have  developed  into  something 
higher  and  bigger,  —  calves  and  colts  and 
full-grown  steers.  It  was  Prince  that 
came  in  at  the  finish.  He  took  that 
coyote  right  by  the  side  of  the  throat, 
shut  his  jaws,  and  swung  it  right  up  over 
his  head.  It  never  stirred.  Then  I  in 
formed  Taggie  that  she  could  turn  around 
and  look  because  it  was  all  over." 

"  But  I  can't  help  it !  '"  exclaimed  the 
younger  girl.  "  I  can't  bear  to  see  such 

220 


A    PAN    OF    DOUGHNUTS. 

awful  things.  It's  bad  enough  to  watch 
the  dogs  chase  the  poor  thing  for  two  or 
three  miles.  I  suppose  I  am  a  coward." 

"  No,  it  shows  only  that  you  have  a 
kind,  tender  heart,  and  I  love  you  for  it. 
But  these  doughnuts  are  simply  delicious, 
and  Lil  is  fixing  us  a  regular  feast,  —  milk 
and  chicken,  and  that  elegant  butter. 
Come,  get  yourself  a  plate  and  sit  up  to 
the  table/' 

"  You  didn't  see  George  anywheres 
when  you  was  ridin'  around,  did  you?': 
inquired  the  woman  as  she  bustled  about 
bringing  dishes  from  the  cupboard  to  the 
table. 

"  No,  we  did  not,"  answered  Marjie. 
"  Did  he  go  to  the  hay-camp?" 

"  Yes,  I  reckon  he  went  over  there  to 
pay  off  some  of  the  men.  Hayin's  about 
over." 

"  Haying  is  over  and  the  summer  is 
nearly  gone !  Can  it  be  possible  ?  It 
won't  be  long  now  before  Kitty  comes 
home,  and  then  good-by  to  the  mount 
ains  !  Oh,  I  have  had  such  a  glorious 
time,  haven't  we,  Taggie  ?  " 

221 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

"  I  guess  I'll  simply  die  when  you're 
gone,"  sighed  the  girl. 

"No,  you  won't  anything  of  the  kind, 
because  I  have  your  mother's  and  father's 
consent  for  you  to  come  and  stay  with 
me  the  greater  part  of  the  winter.  We 
are  to  study  hard,  you  know,  and  learn 
all  sorts  of  things,  —  and  make  the  world 
happy  for  Kitty  and  the  babies,  and  for 
ourselves,  too.  Then  next  summer,  — 
but  we'll  let  next  summer  take  care  of 
itself." 

Taggie's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  She 
took  one  of  Marjie's  brown  hands  from 
the  table,  and  kissed  it  impulsively.  "  I 
didn't  think  they'd  let  me.  Why  didn't 
you  tell  me  before  ?  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  !  " 

"  I  just  wanted  to  keep  it  until  you 
began  to  bemoan  your  fate  and  worry 
over  my  departure." 

"  It  isn't  every  one  that's  blessed  wid 
the  long  head  loike  yer  own,  Miss  Mar 
garet,"  observed  the  Irishman  at  this 
point. 

She  turned  to  him  coolly. 

"That    may    be   as   you    say,   but    I've 

222 


A    PAN    OF    DOUGHNUTS. 

never  yet  planned  ahead  as  far  as  the  length 
of  my  natural  life,  as  I  have  heard  of 
other  people  doing." 

Tim  made  no  answer  to  this  thrust, 
but  reached  for  his  hat,  got  up  slowly, 
and  walked  to  the  door.  When  he 
reached  it  he  turned  about  and  re 
marked,  — 

"I  ain't  a  questionin'  yer  statement, 
but  what  I've  got  to  say  is  this,  —  that  it 
won't  be  long  before  yer  re  makin'  calcu 
lations  on  the  balance  of  yer  loife,  an'  if 
ye  ain't  mighty  careful  you'll  be  drawin' 
a  losin'  card."  With  that  he  left  the 
house. 

Marjie's  face  clouded  over  for  a  brief 
moment  while  she  studied  thoughtfully, 
then  brightening,  she  remarked  to  Tag- 
gie:  — 

"  Do  you  think  a  person  can  make  a 
mistake  in  marrying  the  man  one  loves, 
knowing  that  the  man  has  a  noble  nature, 
and  loves  deeply  and  truly  in  return  ?  — 
providing,  of  course,  that  one  has  the 
chance  of  marrying  this  same  man  ?" 

223 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

"  I  think  I'd  take  chances,"  answered 
Taggie  with  a  sudden  blush. 

"  But  I'd  hate  awfully  to  have  to  pro 
pose  to  a  man,"  said  Marjie  absent- 
mindedly. 


224 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

THE    STREAM    KEPT    UP    ITS    LOUD 
COMPLAINT. 

FEW  days  later  Marjie  received 
a  letter  from  her  sister  in 
forming  her  that  the  young 
baby  was  now  old  and  strong 
enough  to  endure  the  journey  back  to  the 
ranch,  and  that  they  would  in  all  proba 
bility  return  within  a  week  or  two. 
"  Then,"  she  concluded,  "  I  will  be  once 
more  with  my  sweet  Marjie,  thoughts 
of  whom  even  the  care  of  my  new  baby 
cannot  efface  from  my  mind  for  a  single 
hour.  How  I  have  missed  you, --yet 
how  happy  I  am  !  " 

In  that  way  the  young   mother  wrote 
to  her  sister. 

Something  like  a  shadow  crossed  this 
sister's    face.      She    began   to    figure   the 

225 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

days  upon  her  lingers.  Then  a  sudden 
shame  took  possession  of  her.  She  kissed 
the  letter  passionately,  and  throwing  her 
self  upon  the  bed  buried  her  face  in  the 
pillows. 

"  I  will  be  counting  the  hours  next, 
and  then  I  will  be  praying  for  her  not  to 
come  back  so  soon  !  How  shameless  I 
have  grown  !  And  to  what  end  is  all 
this  ?  That  I  should  forsake  my  sister 
and  her  true  affection  to  be  near  this 
man — this  boy  that  I  love!  Just  to 
hear  his  voice  and  wonder  if,  after  all, 
I  have  been  mistaken, -- to  winder  if  he 
still  loves  me  !  If  I  cared  less  I  would 
know,  but  I  cannot  tell,  —  I  cannot 
tell !  " 

In  this  manner  had  her  heart  ofttimes 
cried  out. 

His  Highness  had  growrn  to  be  a 
strong,  well  man,  but  not  a  week  had 
passed  that  Marjie  did  not  ride  up  to  the 
Retreat.  Very  often  they  met  alone  and 
had  long,  quiet  talks  together,  yet  not 
once  did  the  man  betray  the  weakness 
that  he  had  shown  during  his  illness. 

226 


THE    STREAM'S    LOUD    COMPLAINT. 


"  When  you  are  well  and  strong,  I 
will  not  be  so  particular." 

The  words  ofttimes  occurred  to  Marjie 
with  a  mortifying  effect.  She  would 
have  given  much  to  have  been  able  to 
unsay  them  or  forget  them. 

It  was  the  afternoon  of  a  warm  day  in 
September  when  she  received  this  letter 
from  her  sister.  It  aroused  her  with  a 
shock  from  the  lethargy  of  a  drifting 
life,  along  which  she  had  allowed  her 
self  to  be  carried  during  these  last  weeks. 
The  awfulness  of  her  future  suddenly 
confronted  her,  and  she  threw  herself 
from  this  useless,  ineffectual  dreaming 
with  all  the  energy  and  force  of  her 
being.  In  Marjie  that  meant  much. 

She  determined  to  ride  at  once  to  the 
Retreat,  just  why,  she  would  not  tell  her 
self,  but  a  dozen  things  intervened  to 
delay  her.  First  came  Lil  with  so  much 
ready  news  and  gossip,  gathered  from  the 
man  who  had  brought  the  mail  out  from 
town,  that  a  half  hour  elapsed  before  the 
girl  could  find  an  effectual  excuse  to 
withdraw.  Then  Howell  came  up  to 

227 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

the  house,  leading  her  horse,  and  with 
his  usual  solicitude,  asked  her  to  go  out 
for  a  ride  and  get  a  breath  of  fresh  air. 
She  could  not  very  well  refuse,  so  an 
hour  was  passed  in  riding  around  the 
cattle  to  the  south  of  the  ranch.  When 
they  returned,  they  found  Jerry  and  the 
girl,  Taggie,  waiting  in  front  of  the 
house.  The  two  young  people  stayed 
the  remainder  of  the  afternoon,  and  at 
Lil's  urgent  request,  remained  to  supper. 
It  was  late  when,  accompanied  by  Mar- 
jie,  they  rode  away  toward  Winter's 
ranch.  At  the  forks  of  the  road  Marjie 
laughingly  bade  them  good-night  and 
rode  on.  The  words  that  she  had  con 
trived  to  whisper  to  Jerry  rang  continu 
ally  in  his  ears. 

"  Do  not  huny,  please.  I  am  going 
to  see  His  Highness." 

The  boy  could  not  understand  why  she 
had  taken  this  sudden  notion.  To  his 
certain  knowledge  she  had  never  been  in 
the  Retreat  in  the  evening  except  when 
Ike  was  wounded  and  they  had  taken 
that  mad  ride  together.  The  thought 

228 


THE    STREAM'S    LOUD    COMPLAINT. 

filled  him  with  uneasiness,  but  to  him 
her  word  was  law.  So  he  talked  with 
Taggie  at  her  father's  new  fence  for  a 
long  time,  forgetting  in  the  girl's  presence 
some  part  of  his  fears. 

Marjie  rode  on.  It  was  quite  late 
when  her  horse,  with  the  assurance  born 
of  familiarity,  made  its  way  through  the 
gap  of  rocks.  A  few  steps  farther  on,  a 
man  came  toward  her  from  out  of  the 
darkness.  She  knew  him  at  once.  She 
would  have  known  him  had  she  not  in 
the  faint  light  seen  the l  outline  of  his 
perfect  form. 

He  walked  up  to  her  and  laid  his  hand 
upon  the  bridle. 

"What  brings  you  here?'1  he  asked, 
something,  to  her,  indescribably  sweet 
and  tender  sounding  in  his  voice. 

The  girl   leaned  toward  him  that  she 
might  see  him  more  distinctly.      His  face 
told     her    nothing,  —  but    his    voice  - 
Ah,  that  she   might  accept    the    impulse 
that  urged  her  to  a  certain  boldness  ! 

"  You,"  she  said  quickly,  before  her 
spirit  should  waver.  "  Why  else  should 

229 


MARJIE  OF  THE  LOWER  RANCH. 

I  come  ?  Besides,  I  leave  the  mountains 
soon.  Will  you  pardon  such  indis 
cretion  ? " 

"What  have  /  to  pardon?"  There 
was  a  queer  fierceness  in  his  tone.  Mar- 
jie  laughed  softly  and  laid  her  hand  very 
near  to  his  own  upon  the  horse's  neck. 
How  much  the  night  seemed  to  tell 
her! 

The  man  beside  her  could  almost  feel 
the  hand  so  near  to  him.  Never  since 
the  days  of  his  illness  had  he  touched  it, 
or  taken  it  within  his  own.  He  could 
see  the  coaxing  face  bent  down  above 
him,  and  a  maddening  impulse  came 
to  take  the  hand  —  herself,  into  his 
arms.  A  quick  breath  in  the  darkness, 
and  he  stepped  away  from  her.  She  sat 
still  for  a  moment,  filled  with  a  wild  im 
pulse  to  flee,  to  ride  away  through  the 
night  and  leave  him  forever.  Suddenly 
she  slipped  to  the  ground  and  walked 
over  to  the  bank  of  the  stream.  There 
she  stopped  for  a  moment  and  looked 
down  into  the  sparkling  water.  He  was 
by  her  side  instantly. 

230 


THE    STREAM'S    LOUD    COMPLAINT. 

"  What  is  it  you  want  ?  A  drink  ? 
Wait,  I  have  a  cup  near  by." 

He  quickly  procured  a  cup,  filled  it 
from  the  creek,  and  offered  it  to  her. 
Their  hands  met.  The  water  spilled  be 
tween  them,  the  tin  cup  fell  jingling  upon 
the  stones  at  their  feet,  but  they  did  not 
hear  it.  —  The  girl  was  in  his  arms. 

The  thin  ice  of  his  reserve  had  broken 
through.  He  had  come  to  himself,  — 
to  his  own,  and  in  the  one  brief  hour 
that  followed  they  lived  a  lifetime. 

The  hour  went  by.  The  world  held 
but  these  two,  this  one  starlit  night,  and 
their  great  happiness.  The  little  creek 
murmured  dismally,  but  they  did  not 
hear.  They  lost  all  count  of  time,  —  of 
everything  but  their  love  as  they  lingered 
there  upon  the  embankment,  but  still  the 
stream  kept  up  its  loud  complaint. 

The  splashing  of  water  near  them,  fol 
lowed  by  a  bird-like  whistle,  brought 
them  back  to  a  sense  of  reality.  Jerry 
rode  up  beside  them  almost  instantly, 
and  the  silence  which  followed  proved 
the  uncomfortable  embarrassment  of 

231 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

them  all.  Marjie  was  the  first  to  re 
cover. 

"  Since  it  is  so  late,  I  suppose  I  must 
ask  one  of  you  to  go  home  with  me." 

"  I  will  take  your  horse,  Jerry,"  quickly 
spoke  His  Highness. 

The  boy  did  not  speak,  but  dismounted 
and  handed  the  bridle-reins  to  Ike.  Pie 
stood  silently  by  until  they  were  ready  to 
go,  then  he  remarked  : 

"  I  reckon  you  won't  need  my  spurs. 
Good-night  !  " 

Later,  when  Ike  returned,  Jerry  was 
outside  waiting  for  him.  The  boy  did 
not  speak  to  him  when  he  rode  up  but 
silently  took  the  pony  and  went  off  with 
it  through  the  bushes  to  its  stake-rope. 

When  he  returned,  His  Highness  was 
sitting  outside  the  cabin,  smoking  and 
watching  the  stars  in  the  gray-blue  heav 
ens.  Jerry,  still  silent,  walked  past  him 
into  the  cabin.  The  dreamer  outside 
took  little  notice  of  the  boy's  restless  foot 
steps  as  he  paced  back  and  forth  in  the 
small  kitchen. 

For  more  than  an  hour  the  boy  walked 

232 


THE    STREAM'S    LOUD    COMPLAINT. 

about  like  some  haunted  soul,  and  the 
man  dreamed.  At  length,  Jerry  touched 
him  upon  the  shoulder,  and  the  man, 
still  enwrapped  in  his  exquisite  thoughts, 
looked  up  at  him. 

Jerry  was  visibly  agitated.  Even  in 
the  dimness  of  the  light  that  the  lamp  in 
the  room  cast  upon  him,  he  looked  pale. 
He  began  to  speak,  then  hesitated  and 
began  again ;  —  this  time  in  a  sudden 
burst  of  words. 

"  I  don't  suppose  I've  got  any  right  on 
earth  to  tell  you  what  I'm  agoin'  to,  for 
I  .think  more  of  you  than  I  do  of  any 
one  ;  —  but  I've  just  got  to  say  it !  "  He 
stopped  an  instant.  The  man  looked  at 
him  with  curious  expectancy.  The  boy 
went  on  :  "I  suppose  I  hadn't  ought  to 
'a'  seen  what  I  did  to-night,  or  to  know 
what  I  know.  I  had  a  sort  of  idea  that 
you  cared  for  her,  for  I  couldn't  see  how 
you  could  help  yourself.  I  might  'a' 
known  she'd  like  you,  too,  —  but  I  never 
thought  you'd  let  yourself  make  love  to 
her  !  What  are  you  goin'  to  do  about  it 
now  ?  You  goin'  to  marry  her  and  bring 

233 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

her  here,  to  this  hidin'  place  ?  Are  you 
goin'  to  make  that  girl  an  outlaw's  wife  ? 
Why,  she  might  better  be  dead  an'  done 
with  it !  She's  been  everywhere  an'  had 
everything  all  her  life,  an'  she  couldn't 
rough  it  like  we  do,  no  more  than  any 
thing  !  You'd  be  just  diggin'  a  grave  for 
her.  She'd  die  a  worryin'  about  you  a 
hidin'  here  !  Howell's  in  love  with  her, 
and  I'd  rather  see  him  get  her,  mean  as 
he  is,  than  to  have  you  bring  her  here  to 
this  life !  " 

The  face  of  the  man  had  grown  deathly 
pale  and  drawn  in  the  dim  light.  He 
held  up  his  hand  for  the  boy  to  be  silent. 
Jerry  was  startled  at  the  sound  of  his 
voice. 

"  You've  said  enough.  I  am  fully 
awake.  At  least  you  might  have  let  me 
dream  for  one  night.  —  That  was  the  first. 
It  will  be  the  last  if  it  eats  out  my  soul 
and  breaks  her  heart !  " 

Then  he  laughed  in  a  harsh,  strange 
manner,  and  walked  out  into  the  night. 


234 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

AN    ODD    ELOPEMENT. 

HEN  Marjie  walked  out  into 
the  sunlight  the  next  morn 
ing,  no  thought  of  a  possible 
sorrow  came  to  her,  nor  even 
the  slightest  foreboding,  so  happy  was 
she  in  the  sweet  newness  of  her  love- 
dream,  which  held  her  enthralled  in  its 
embrace.  She  sought  a  secluded  spot, 
there  to  be  apart  from  all  the  world 
and  dream  its  sweetness  over  and  over 
again. 

A  secluded  spot  on  this  particular 
ranch  was  not  difficult  to  find,  but  a 
bower  of  roses  or  a  vine-covered  arbor, 
both  fitting  backgrounds  for  such  a  mood 
and  such  a  scene,  were  unheard-of  luxu 
ries  in  this  out-of-the-world  country. 

But  Marjie  Navarre  did  not  require 
a  background  otherwise  than  the  sunny 

235 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

corner  of  the  log  house.  True,  there 
was  the  brush  along  the  creek,  and  in 
the  distance  a  lone  pine-tree  stood  out 
in  the  rocks,  high  up  on  the  side  of  a 
butte ;  but  this  girl,  in  a  heaven  all 
her  own,  had  no  thought  of  things 
earthly. 

So  she  lived  and  dreamed  and  thought 
for  a  time ;  but  the  dream  ended,  as  it 
always  does,  though  its  fragrance  re 
mained. 

The  coarse  voice  of  the  woman,  Lil, 
came  from  around  a  corner  of  the  build 
ing,  bringing  Marjie  back  to  things  ma 
terial  somewhat  abruptly. 

"  Why,  here  you  be,  sunnin'  yourself, 
an'  I  was  thinkin'  you  was  in  bed  asleep, 
though  I  don't  see  how  anyone  can  sleep 
as  late  as  this !  Ain't  you  hungry  ? 
Breakfast's  waitin'.  George,  he  rode  off 
early  an'  he  ain't  been  in  yet.  But  he's 
comin'  now,  over  there  by  the  sheep- 
shed,  so  you  can  eat  together.  Kind  of 
keep  each  other  company.  I'm  givin' 
things  a  good  diggin'  out  this  mornin'. 
It  needs  it  bad  enough,  but  I  ain't  got 

230 


AN    ODD    ELOPEMENT. 


much  more  to  do.      Come  on   in  an'  be 
gin.      George'll  be  here  in  a  minute." 

The  woman  stepped  away  from  the 
side  of  the  building,  and  shading  her  eyes 
with  her  hand,  looked  from  one  end  of 
the  mountain  valley  to  the  other. 

"  This  is  a  pretty  fine  lookin'  ranch," 
she  said  at  length,  as  she  turned  about  and 
followed  Marjie  along  the  side  of  the 
house.  "  I  don't  see  how  it  is  I  never 
noticed  it  so  much  before.  When  George 
an'  me  first  settled  here  I  thought  it  was 
the  prettiest  place  I'd  ever  set  eyes  on  ; 
but  somehow  I  got  used  to  it  an'  never 
thought  no  more  about  it." 

A  look  almost  pitiful  came  over  the 
woman's  face.  But  Marjie,  walking  on 
ahead,  did  not  look  around.  When  they 
reached  the  door  of  the  kitchen,  the 
woman  paused,  and  again  surveyed  the 
surrounding  country  ;  then  hearing  Mar- 
jie's  low  laugh,  she  turned  and  entered 
the  house. 

"  My,  you  have  been  making  things 
shine  !  "  exclaimed  the  girl.  "  I  don't 
like  to  walk  on  this  floor,  it's  so  clean ; 

237 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

but  someone  will  have  to  make  a  begin 
ning.  Why,  what  have  you  got  the  cat 
tied  up  for  ?  Pussy,  what  have  you  done 
to  deserve  such  a  fate  ?  " 

Lil,  pretending  not  to  hear,  made  no 
reply,  and  Marjie  never  gave  another 
thought  to  the  circumstance  until  later 
that  same  day.  She  had  gone  with 
Howell  to  drive  some  cattle  across  the 
divide.  They  were  returning  when 
Marjie,  who  had  been  unusually  silent  all 
the  morning,  burst  out  suddenly  into  a 
hearty  laugh.  Her  companion  smiled 
and  watched  her  in  wonderment,  as  he 
always  did  when  she  changed  quickly 
from  one  mood  to  another. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  questioned. 

"  I  was  thinking  about  the  cat.  I 
wonder  why  Mrs.  Howell  had  it  tied  up. 
Didn't  you  notice  it  ?  Yes,  it  was  tied 
up  by  the  neck.  Perhaps  she  is  breaking 
it  to  lead  !  " 

"  Umph  !  I  shouldn't  wonder  !  "  he 
exclaimed.  "  That's  her  one  earthly 
possession  that  she  adores." 

When   they  rode  nearer  to  the  ranch 

238 


AN   ODD   ELOPEMENT. 


Howell  pointed  to  the  house,  remark 
ing : 

"  Someone's  there.  I  see  a  spring 
wagon  up  in  front." 

"  Oh,  I  wonder  if  it  can  be  —  if  it 
could  be  Tom  and  Kitty,  or  someone  for 
me?"  cried  Marjie  with  unconscious  dis 
tress  in  her  voice. 

Howell  looked  at  her  closely. 

"  You  don't  want  to  go,"  he  said  with 
sudden  narrowing  of  eyes,  and  the  hand 
that  held  the  rein  grew  unsteady  so  that  he 
rested  it  upon  the  pommel  of  the  saddle. 

"  Oh,  what  am  I  to  say  ? "  exclaimed 
the  girl.  "  I  do  not  want  to  go,  yet  you 
must  not  think  that  I  am  sorry  because 
they  are  coming  home,  or  may  be  there 
now,  if  that  should  be  they.  I  simply 
hate  to  leave.  The  mountains  are  very 
fascinating  !  "  She  laughed  softly. 

"  And  the  people  ? "  questioned  the 
man  at  her  side. 

"The  people?"  Her  eyes  softened 
wonderfully.  "  Yes  ;  you  are  right.  It 
is  the  people,  or  rather  the  person  !  }i  She 
could  not  keep  her  own  secret.  If  she 

239 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

had  realized  the  happiness  that  filled 
George  Howell's  heart  when  she  spoke 
those  words,  she  would  unhesitatingly 
have  told  all  her  secret.  With  a  sudden 
impulse  to  learn  if  the  team  at  the  ranch 
was  meant  for  her,  she  rode  quickly  for 
ward.  The  man,  who  had  longed  for  an 
opportunity  to  tell  her  of  the  passion  that 
filled  his  life,  followed  close  behind,  un 
able  to  say  the  words  which  were  burn 
ing  within  him. 

An  astonishing  surprise  awaited  them. 
Before  the  door  of  the  ranch-house  stood 
Howell's  own  wagon,  to  which  a  large 
work  team  that  Lil  called  her  own,  was 
hitched.  Upon  the  high  seat  sat  Lil,  serene 
and  ponderous.  Howell's  eyes  opened  in 
wonder  as  he  took  it  all  in  with  one 
glance,  then  riding  up  alongside,  he 
asked  sternly : 

"  Well,  what's  up  now  ?  " 

"  I'm  up,"  responded  the  woman,  draw 
ing  the  reins  up  tighter  above  the  horses' 
backs.  "  An'  I'm  waitin'  for  Tim  to  get 
up  so's  we  can  move  along.  I'm  goin'  to 
town." 

240 


AN    ODD    ELOPEMENT. 


"  It  looks  like  you  intend  to  stay  for 
some  time,  by  the  things  you've  got 
packed  in  that  wagon,"  said  Howell 
coolly. 

The  woman  laughed  hilariously.  Evi 
dently  she  had  been  drinking.  She 
leaned  over  slightly  as  she  spoke. 

"  Well,  yes,  I  reckon  that's  about  what 
I  intend  to  do.  I  thought  I  needed  a 
change,  an'  you  know  changes  is  some 
thing  my  family  is  kind  of  addicted  to. 
I  thought  I'd  get  away  before  you  folks 
got  back  because  partin'  is  always  sad 
business,  but  Tim's  slower'n  molasses  in 
January.  Come  along  here,  Tim,  or  I'll 
go  off  an'  leave  you,  an'  then  you'll  know 
what'll  happen !  Come  on,  nobody's 
goin'  to  hurt  you  !  " 

The  Irishman  peered  cautiously  around 
the  corner  of  the  house,  and  seeing  noth 
ing  to  alarm  him,  walked  boldly  up  to 
the  wagon,  remarking  as  he  clambered  in 
beside  the  woman  : 

"  I'm  obeyin'  orders,  sirr  !  " 

"Shut  up,"  exclaimed  Lil.  "Just 
pull  that  cat  up  to  the  front  here  under 

241 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER   RANCH. 

my  feet,  so's  I  can  keep  my  eye  on  it," 
she  demanded,  whipping  up  the  large 
horses  which  started  lumberingly  away. 

"  Good-by  !  "  she  called,  turning  labo 
riously  about,  and  wraving  her  hand  at 
Howell.  She  had  not  so  much  as  looked 
at  Marjie. 

The  girl  had  dismounted.  Her  horse, 
turned  adrift,  grazed  near,  while  she 
stood  facing  the  mountain  that  loomed 
between  her  and  the  Retreat. 

She  did  not  conceal  her  abhorrence  of 
the  whole  episode,  and  still  continued 
silent  as  the  pair  drove  away. 

It  was  all  ridiculous  in  the  extreme, 
but  to  Howell  it  was  a  sudden  release 
from  his  wretched  existence.  To  Marjie 
much  of  the  tragedy  was  lost  sight  of 
in  her  keen  sense  of  the  ludicrousness 
of  the  situation,  but  her  disgust  was  none 
the  less  apparent. 

In  the  man's  heart  lay  a  deep  reason 
for  his  relief  in  the  woman's  leave- 
taking  of  the  home  that  she  had  occupied 
for  so  many  years.  It  may  not  have  been 
a  relief  to  Lil  to  leave  the  husband  that 

242 


AN    ODD    ELOPEMENT. 

she  had  apparently  loved,  but  no  trace 
of  regret  showed  in  her  fat,  placid 
countenance,  as  she  urged  the  horses  to 
a  faster  gait,  and  left  behind  her  forever 
the  scene  of  half  her  life. 

Marjie  was  gazing  straight  ahead, 
strangely  silent,  the  expression  of  her 
face  hidden  from  Howell.  After  the 
wagon  had  passed  through  the  gate,  he 
turned  to  her,  saying  huskily  :  — 

"  Why  don't  you  speak  to  me  ?  Why 
don't  you  say  something  ?  Do  you  hate 
me  because  such  a  thing  has  been  forced 
upon  my  life  ?  —  a  fitting  culmination  to 
these  disgraceful,  hellish  years  ?  Such  a 
humiliating  disgrace  !  Do  you  despise 
me  because  in  a  weak  moment  I  married 
such  a  woman  as  that  ?  My  God,  girl ! 
I  am  humbled  enough  !  Why  don't  you 
speak  to  me  ?  " 

She  turned  to  him  like  a  flash,  holding 
out  both  her  hands. 

"No,  no,  I  do  not  think  that!  I 
don't  despise  you  or  hate  you.  I  am  so 
sorry  for  you,  —  and  for  her  !  I  think 
I  understand  perfectly  your  weakness  in 

243 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

marrying  her,  your  sin  in  living  with 
her,  and  the  unhappiness  of  your  life. 
I  am  sure  that  I  understand,  and  I  am  so 
sorry  for  you  !  Words  of  mine  cannot 
help  you  or  benefit  you.  Your  old  life 
has  ended,  —  a  new  one  has  begun,  and 
I  pray  that  it  may  be  a  happy  one,  - 
that  you  may  grow  better  and  stronger, 
and  deserve  all  the  blessings  that  life  can 
give.  —  This  ends  my  summer.  After  all, 
I  have  been  happy  here.  The  end  would 
have  come  doubtlessly  within  a  few  days, 
and  a  few  days  can  make  but  little  differ 
ence  in  one's  life --and  happiness,  and  I 
am  so  happy  !  I  pray  that  you  may  be 
just  as  happy." 

Howell  had  taken  both  the  hands  she 
gave  him  within  his  own,  and  still  held 
them.  She  looked  at  him  with  deepest 
sympathy  shining  from  her  beautiful  face. 
Little  she  knew  the  extent  of  his  pas 
sion.  His  voice  shook  with  it  as  he 
spoke. 

"  Your  happiness  means  more  to  me 
than  anything  else  in  this  world.  I  am 
ashamed  to  say  such  things  to  you  now, 

244 


AN   ODD    ELOPEMENT. 


—  it  is  too  soon.  I>ut  sometime,  when 
this  thing  is  settled  2nd  forgotten,  wheq 
I  have  grown  to  be  a  better  man,  I  am 
coming  to  you  to  ask  for  the  greatest 
thing  this  world  can  possibly  hold  for 
me.  Do  you  know  what  that  means  ?  " 

She  drew  her  hands  quickly  away,  and 
standing  erect  before  him,  looked  at  him 
with  a  strange,  startled  expression  in  her 
eyes. 

Wrapped  in  her  own  great  love,  she 
had  lost  sight  of  the  truth  that  had  once 
dawned  upon  her,  the  truth  that  Howell 
cared  for  her  in  a  way  that  was  appalling, 
to  say  the  least. 

She  did  not  hesitate  or  flinch  as  she 
spoke  the  words  that  shut  all  thoughts 
of  happiness  forever  from  him,  and  killed 
every  germ  of  manliness  in  his  nature. 

"I  have  given  you  my  pity,  —  deep 
from  my  heart,  and  I  feel  for  you  a  kind 
ness,  —  almost  an  affection,  born  of  this 
same  pity,  —  but  I  cannot  give  you  my 
love,  —  now,  or  at  any  time,  because  that 
love  is  not  mine  to  give.  I  already  love, 
and  I  am  so  inexpressibly  happy  that 

245 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

even  this  new  trouble  of  yours  cannot 
dim  it.  Why,  it  makes  me  happy  even 
to  say  the  words,  *  I  love  him  ' !  And 
you  must  learn  to  be  happy,  too.  I  should 
have  told  you  before." 

A  look  of  horror  came  over  the  man's 
face  and  grew  as  she  continued :  "  It  is 
all  true  —  and  wonderful  to  me.  I  love 
His  Highness,  as  you  call  him,  —  Jerry's 
friend.  That  is  all.  You  must  try  to  be 
glad  for  my  sake,  and  forget  what  you 
have  said  to  me,  or  would  say,  —  over 
come  it  and  be  happy.  It  seems  to  me 
that  the  whole  world  ought  to  be  happy 
now !  " 

Words  sprang  to  his  lips,  but  he  could 
not  utter  them.  He  turned  and  walked 
unsteadily  away  from  her,  leaving  her 
with  the  sun  shining  upon  her  upturned 
face,  and  the  happiness  singing  in  her 
heart. 


246 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

WHEN    ALL     THE    WORLD    WENT    WRONG. 

>ARJIE  hastily  packed  her  be 
longings.  The  sorrow  of 
leaving  her  new  happiness 
gradually  came  over  her,  but 
the  fact  that  Ike  loved  her,  as  she  realized 
and  knew  that  he  did,  made  life  a  grand 
and  glorious  thing  to  her,  obliterating  the 
pain  of  parting  that  must  come  that  day. 
While  arranging  her  possessions  in 
movable  order,  she  decided  that  the  best 
thing  for  her  to  do  under  the  circum 
stances  would  be  to  get  Taggie  to  accom 
pany  her,  and  go  directly  to  the  ranch 
below,  there  to  await  her  sister's  return, 
which  would  be  but  a  few  days  at  the 
most. 

But  first  she  must  see  His  Highness. 
Certainly  he  would  never  forgive  her  if 
she  went  away  without  seeing  him,  and 

247 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

she  could  never  forgive  herself.  So  that 
one  point  was  settled  in  her  mind.  She 
would  see  Ike  as  soon  as  possible,  and 
leave  later  in  the  afternoon  for  the  ranch 
below. 

The  horse  she  had  been  riding  that 
morning  belonged  to  Howell.  Her  own 
saddle  animal  was  feeding  in  the  small 
pasture.  She  would  get  it  in  and  saddle 
it  as  soon  as  she  finished  packing. 

Fortunately  for  her  plans,  Jerry  rode 
past  the  house  a  few  minutes  later,  and 
she  called  to  him  from  her  window. 

He  turned  his  pony  about  and  rode 
slowly  up  to  the  house,  reaching  the  door 
just  as  Marjie  hurried  out  to  him. 

"  It  is  lucky  you  happened  along  just 
now !  I  am  in  a  great  dilemma,  in 
which  only  you  can  assist  me.  Why, 
what  is  the  matter,  Jerry  ?  Are  you 
sorry  because  I  am  going  home  to-day  ? ' 

The  boy's  face  had  grown  old  and 
worried  since  the  previous  day,  and 
although  Marjie's  brain  was  filled  with 
new,  strange  thoughts  and  a  strong  under 
current  of  excitement,  yet  she  noticed  it. 

248 


WHEN  THE  WORLD  WENT  WRONG. 

Jerry  looked  startled  at  the  announce 
ment,  and  replied  :  - 

"  I  didn't  know  it.  What  are  you 
goin'  so  soon  for  ?  I  —  I'm  sorry.  Has 
your  folks  got  back  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  answered  slowly,  "  but  you 
see  Lil  has  gone  away,  —  to  town,  and  so 
I  must  go  home.  Oh,  if  you  knew  how 
sorry  I  am  to  leave  !  We've  had  such  a 
good  time,  haven't  we  ?  I  can't  realize 
that  I  am  really  and  truly  going;  —  and 
to-day,  too  !  "  Then  she  continued,  shak 
ing  back  the  hair  from  her  forehead  and 
laughing  softly  ;  —  "But  perhaps  I  may 
come  back  some  day  if"  A  faint 

flush  crept  over  her  face,  she  hesitated  in 
her  speech,  then  taking  a  step  forward, 
laid  her  hand  upon  Lady's  sleek  neck, 
and  looking  up  earnestly  at  Jerry,  went 
on:  "Jerry,  I  want  to  see  him  —  His 
Highness,  before  I  go.  What  am  I  to 
do  ?  Couldn't  you  ride  up  there  with  a 
note  for  me  ?  I  have  no  one  else  but 
you  !  You'll  do  it,  I  know.  I  won't  be 
but  a  minute  writing  it !  " 

She   did   not  wait  for  his  reply,  think- 

249 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

ing  that  he  would  gladly  do  this  for 
her. 

It  was  true  he  could  not  refuse  to 
comply  with  her  request,  yet  he  recoiled 
with  pain  from  the  thought  of  seeing  the 
thing  through,  and  waited  stolidly  in  his 
saddle  many  minutes  for  the  note.  Every 
moment  since  the  night  before  he  had 
been  reproached  by  his  conscience.  By 
what  earthly  right  had  he  taken  it  upon 
himself  to  dictate  or  meddle  in  an  affair 
that  did  not  concern  him  ?  He  asked 
this  of  himself  many  times,  and  a  great 
fear  of  the  consequence  grew  in  his  heart. 
Why  could  he  not  have  kept  his  mouth 
closed  ?  Yet  he  thought  at  the  time  that 
he  was  doing  right.  But  if  he  was  to  see 
this  girl  suffer  one  pang  of  unhappiness, 
he  would  pay  most  dearly  for  his  inter 
ference. 

All  this  and  more  passed  through  his 
mind  as  he  waited.  Finally,  after  what 
seemed  to  him  a  very  long  time,  she  came 
out,  a  look  of  assurance  and  relief  upon 
her  face. 

"  Put  it  in  your  pocket  carefully,  —  so, 

250 


WHEN  THE  WORLD  WENT  WRONG. 

and  bring  me  an  answer  soon.  Be  sure 
that  you  wait  for  an  answer,  for  that  is 
the  most  important  part !  How  good 
you  have  been  to  me,  Jerry ! " 

"  Don't,"  he  exclaimed,  wheeling  his 
horse  quickly  about. 

She  watched  him  for  a  moment  as  he 
rode  away,  then  she  returned  to  the 
house. 

"  Something  is  wrong  with  the  boy 
to-day,"  she  thought,  "  and  something 
seems  wrong  with  every  one,  except 
with  us  and  our  great  love.  But  that 
cannot  go  wrong  because  it  is  everlast- 
ing ! " 

Jerry  had  not  seen  his  friend  since  the 
previous  night,  but  he  felt  sure  that  he 
would  find  him  up  at  the  Find.  He 
went  directly  there.  Somehow  he  could 
not  give  the  whistle  signal,  and  so  with 
scarcely  a  sound  of  warning,  walked  up 
to  where  the  man  was  at  work.  He 
stood  directly  before  the  stooping  man 
before  he  knew  of  his  presence,  but  His 
Highness  did  not  start  or  change  expres 
sion.  He  had  no  fear  of  any  living 

251 


MARJIE  OF  THE  LOWER  RANCH. 

thing  now  !  Jerry  tried  to  speak,  but 
failed  completely  before  the  cold,  clear 
eyes  of  the  man.  Then  he  fumblingly 
drew  the  letter  from  his  pocket  and 
handed  it  to  him.  He  turned  suddenly 
about  when  he  had  done  so  and  walked 
some  distance  away.  Finally  he  found 
his  voice,  and  called  back  that  he  would 
wait  at  the  cabin  for  the  answer.  Ike 
made  no  reply.  With  a  white  face  and 
wild-beating  heart  he  stood  there,  holding 
the  missive  in  his  hand. 

It  was  a  little  note,  so  rilled  with  the 
fragrance  of  the  girl's  own  sweet  soul, 
that  the  man  who  read  it  felt  a  pang 
worse  than  death.  She  wrote  :  - 

"I  do  not  know  how  to  head  this,  —  my 
first  letter  to  you,  so  I  will  start  it  abruptly, 
— just  as  we  began  our  real  life,  you  and  I,  — 
for  I  cannot  remember  the  beginning  of  our 
love,  can  you?  It  seems  to  me  that  it  has 
been  always,  — just  as  it  will  continue  for  time 
without  end.  And,  oh,  I  am  so  happy  !  So 
happy  that  a  somewhat  serious  difficulty  that 
has  just  presented  itself  seems  insignificant.  I 
am  obliged  to  go  home  to-day  !  So  I  write 
this  that  you  may  come  to  me,  or  arrange 

252 


WHEN  THE  WORLD  WENT  WRONG. 


that  we  can  see  each  other,  which   sounds   bet 
ter. 

You  have  weakened  my  patience,  so  hurry 

to  MARJIE." 

When  he  had  read  it  he  wept,  as  only 
a  strong,  tender  man  can  weep,  but  in 
his  tears  he  found  no  consolation. 

Later  he  returned  to  the  cabin  and 
gave  Jerry  the  answer,  written  upon  a 
scrap  of  newspaper.  Then  without 
speaking,  he  turned  and  walked  back  to 
his  work. 

Jerry  rode  slowly  down  through  the 
gulch.  The  little  piece  of  paper,  placed 
carefully  inside  the  pocket  of  his  shirt, 
seemed  to  drag  down  upon  him  with  the 
heaviness  of  a  rock. 

When  he  reached  the  ranch,  Marjie 
ran  to  meet  him,  holding  out  her  hand 
with  a  shy  little  laugh  for  the  note.  The 
happiness  in  her  face  smote  the  boy  to 
the  heart,  and  he  thought  to  ride  away 
before  she  had  time  to  read  it.  A  great 
fear  stole  over  him.  Instead  of  acting 
upon  his  impulse,  he  sat  there  powerless 

253 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

in  his  saddle,  while  she  laughed  softly 
and  turned  her  back  to  him  as  she  opened 
the  scrap  of  paper. 

It  seemed  to  Jerry  that  she  stood  there 
for  hours.  Something  in  the  expression 
of  her  shoulders  and  back  made  him 
realize  the  agony  of  the  moment.  She 
seemed  as  though  turned  to  stone. 

The  time  could  not  have  been  of  long 
duration,  yet  to  Jerry  it  seemed  endless. 
Suddenly  she  turned  about  and  faced  him. 
She  was  white  with  a  strange  pallor. 
Holding  out  the  paper,  she  said  in  a 
voice  grown  strange : 

"  I  wish  you  would  read  it  to  me.  I 
don't  think  that  I  have  it  quite  right." 

He  looked  frightened  and  as  he  spoke 
his  voice  shook. 

"  I  don't  think  I've  got  any  right  to 
read  it.  I  don't  want  to  !  " 

"  Read  it  to  me  !  "  she  commanded. 
The  strength  of  her  will  compelled  him. 
He  took  the  paper  in  trembling  fingers 
and  read : 

"  In  answer  to  your  note,  which  has  just 
reached  me,  I  must  say,  that  after  duly  consid- 

264 


WHEN  THE  WORLD  WENT  WRONG. 

ering  everything,  I  have  decided  that  it  is 
better  for  us  to  part,  —  forever  and  completely. 
I  thank  you  for  bringing  into  my  life  a  ray  of 
happiness.  This  is  absolutely  decisive.  That 
you  may  soon  forget  a  man  unworthy  of  you, 

is  the  prayer  of 

AN  OUTLAW. 

The  note  fluttered  from  the  boy's 
nerveless  fingers  to  the  ground.  Marjie 
stooped  and  picked  it  up.  Folding  it 
carefully  she  placed  it  inside  the  bosom 
of  her  dress. 

A  strange  calm  came  over  her  which 
frightened  Jerry  and  filled  him  with 
wonder.  She  patted  the  neck  of  the 
small  gray  pony  and  talked  to  it  in  a  low 
voice.  Then  kissing  it  in  the  center  of 
the  forehead,  bade  it  good-by  in  a  voice 
calm  and  sweetly  contained.  Stepping 
away  from  the  pony,  she  said : 

"  Good-by  to  you,  too,  Jerry.  This 
afternoon  I  ride  to  Tom's  place.  I  wish 
you  would  see  Mrs.  Winter  for  me, 
please.  Tell  her  that  I  am  alone  and 
ask  her  to  allow  Taggie  or  one  of  the 
other  girls  to  come  down  and  stay  with 

255 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 


me  until  my  sister  returns.  I  will  send 
up  one  of  the  men  from  below  to  get  my 
luggage,  and  she  can  ride  back  with 
him." 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply,  she  walked 
down  to  the  field  where  her  horse  was 
picketed. 

Jerry  scarcely  knowing  what  he  was 
about,  turned  his  pony  and  rode  slowly 
away.  He  had  not  the  courage  to  stay 
longer,  to  hear  her  speak,  or  to  see  again 
the  strange  look  upon  her  face. 

When  he  reached  the  crest  of  hill,  he 
turned  around  in  his  saddle  and  saw  her 
riding  swiftly  away  from  the  ranch. 


256 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

% 

THEN     CAME    WINTER. 

,FTERWARD  Marjie  never 
could  remember  her  ride  from 
the  ranch  in  the  mountains 
to  the  prairie  below,  but 
throughout  her  life  she  never  forgot  the 
anguish  of  that  one  afternoon.  The 
memory  of  it  haunted  her  with  night 
mare  effect,  even  when  other  trials  should 
have  banished  it  forever  from  her  mind. 
But  one  never  forgets  the  first  great  pain, 
because,  ever,  it  is  the  hardest  to  endure. 
Sometime,  in  nearly  every  human  life, 
comes  a  heart  tragedy,  worse  than  death 
at  its  worst.  Mortal  words  cannot  ex 
press  it  or  describe  it,  but  a  mortal  heart 
can  understand  it  and  a  living,  suffering 
soul  can  feel  it. 

When    Marjie  began  to  think  clearly 
and    to    reason   she   was   appalled   at   the 

257 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

utter  hopelessness  of  her  life.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  she  had  never  really  lived 
before  this  love  came  to  her,  filling  her 
with  its  wonderful  force.  Now  that  she 
had  lost  it,  how  was  she  to  exist  the 
balance  of  her  life  ?  Perhaps  this  ques 
tion  which  she  asked  herself  served  as 
food  for  more  deliberate  thinking  than 
she  had  yet  allowed  herself.  At  any 
rate,  it  partially  lifted  the  curtain  of 
darkness  that  enshrouded  her  soul  and  let 
in  a  little  of  God's  own  sunshine,  clear 
ing  the  mist  from  her  mental  vision. 
Then  came  Hope.  It  is  never  far  dis 
tant  from  youth. 

Before  two  days  had  passed,  Marjie 
Navarre  had  made  up  her  mind  that  life 
was,  after  all,  long,  that  she  would  yet 
learn  more  of  the  truth,  and  until  she 
had  done  so,  she  would  never  despair  or 
cease  to  hope. 

Finally,  after  weeks,  she  took  out  the 
little  note  and  read  it  over  and  over 
again,  until  she  fancied  that  she  could 
read  the  man's  strong  love  between  the 
piteously  cruel  lines. 

258 


THEN    CAME    WINTER. 


The  day  after  Marjie  returned  to  the 
lonely  ranch  on  the  prairie,  she  sent  the 
wagon  to  the  mountains  for  her  luggage, 
and  also  a  note  to  Mrs.  Winter,  request 
ing  the  company  of  Taggie.  The  note 
was  unnecessary,  for  before  the  wagon 
had  reached  its  destination  the  young 
girl  passed  it,  riding  her  Dandy  at  a 
reckless  gait  toward  the  home  of  her 
lonely  friend,  —  poor  Marjie,  to  whom 
this  isolation  was  a  blessing. 

Marjie  received  her  sweetly,  as  usual, 
but  a  certain  shadow  of  her  grief  fell 
upon  Taggie,  whispering  to  her  young 
heart  something  of  the  misery  and  some 
thing  of  the  cause.  But  she  asked 
Marjie  no  questions,  though  longing  to 
do  so,  and  life  went  on  with  its  usual 
smoothness  until  the  return  of  the  family 
a  week  later.  Then  the  sweet-voiced 
Kitty  and  the  happy  little  ones  brought 
a  change  that  was  acceptable  to  both 
girls.  It  gave  them  something  more 
to  think  about.  Not  that  Taggie  was 
particularly  unhappy,  yet  it  was  a  con 
tinual  pain  to  her  to  see  Marjie  bravely 

£59 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

attempting  to  conceal  the  anguish  in   her 
heart. 

The  young  girl  had  good  eyes.  She 
was  not  far  wrong  in  her  surmise  of  the 
affair.  Many  times  she  had  seen  Marjie 
ride  up  in  the  mountains  beyond  the 
Howell  ranch.  Once  in  her  own  travels 
she  had  met  face  to  face  the  man  that 
she  knew  instinctively  must  be  His  High 
ness,  whom  Jerry  had  so  often  men 
tioned.  In  her  mind  she  had  formed  a 
romantic  connection  between  this  grand 
looking  man  and  the  girl  she  loved  so 
well.  That  was  after  she  knew  that  she 
had  no  rival  in  Marjie.  Jerry  was  also 
in  trouble ;  Jerry,  the  boy  whom  years 
of  separation  had  not  weakened  the 
childish  affection  that  she  had  felt  for 
him,  when  children  together  they  had 
played  in  the  woods  behind  her  father's 
shack.  When  the  boy's  father  took  him 
away  did  she  not  weep  for  days  in  the 
little  arbor  that  they  had  built  ?  And 
did  she  not  still  treasure  the  little  candy 
heart  that  the  boy  had  once  given  to 
her  ?  But  when  he  went  away  she  dared 

260 


THEN    CAME   WINTER. 


no  longer  mention  his  name,  so  the  child 
suffered  in  silence. 

Jerry's  father  had  been  suspected  of 
belonging  to  a  gang  of  horse  thieves,  and 
in  that  locality,  at  that  particular  time, 
nothing  more  disgraceful  or  low  could 
have  been  conceived.  It  is  doubtful  if 
old  Hendricks  ever  was  guilty  of  this  one 
accusation,  but  being  a  man  of  fairly 
good  judgment,  he  took  his  boy  and  dis 
appeared  from  the  neighborhood. 

Winter  was  a  poor  but  respectable  pil 
lar  of  the  place,  and  at  that  time  was 
acting  as  deputy  sheriff.  His  hatred  of 
horse  thieves  in  general  and  a  suspect  in 
particular  was  as  great  as  it  was  narrow- 
minded.  After  Hendricks's  abrupt  leave- 
taking,  his  name  was  a  forbidden  topic 
in  the  Winter  household.  So  little  Tag- 
gie  brooded  and  mourned  in  silence,  and 
did  not  forget  the  boy,  even  after  many 
years  had  passed. 

Marjie's  friendship  to  Jerry  had  some 
what  weakened  old  Winter's  dislike,  for 
Margaret  Navarre  was  a  sensible  young 
woman,  with  a  good  bank  account  of  her 

261 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

own,  which  somewhat  influenced  his 
opinion  of  her  judgment.  At  any  rate, 
Winter  had  a  secret  liking  for  the  young 
man  which  his  so-called  pride, —  namely 
obstinacy,  made  him  conceal  with  con 
siderable  gruff  grumbling.  Then  the 
boy's  father  was  dead.  That  altered  the 
case  somewhat,  but  even  the  son  of  a 
suspected  horse  thief  was  abhorrent  to 
him.  And  his  girl  liked  the  boy  !  It 
was  all  exceedingly  unfortunate,  yet  it 
would  be  too  bad  to  acquaint  such  a  nice 
girl  as  Margaret  Navarre  with  the  boy's 
antecedents.  So  he  concluded  to  say 
nothing,  for  it  might  be  possible  that  she 
had  some  knowledge  of  his  past  history. 
When  Marjie  suggested  that  Taggie 
should  spend  the  winter  with  her,  he 
readily  consented,  for  would  not  that 
take  her  away  from  Jerry  ?  That  was 
the  one  thing  to  be  desired. 

If  Taggie's  heart  was  somewhat  heavy 
now,  the  children  soon  changed  it  all. 
Those  children !  Were  they  not  the 
dearest,  sweetest  things  that  ever  breathed  ? 
She  asked  each  member  of  the  family 

262 


THEN    CAME    WINTER. 


that  question  a  dozen  times  a  day,  and 
certainly  they  agreed  with  her. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  young  girl 
became  more  contented  and  happy  than 
ever  in  her  previous  life. 

Finally,  when  Marjie  began  to  hope, 
she,  too,  was  not  so  wretched,  and  the 
months  of  winter  passed  over  her  slowly, 
leaving  an  added  grace  and  beauty  to  her 
character.  Of  her  face,  what  can  be 
said  ?  A  description  would  fail,  just  as  it 
fails  to  paint  the  beauty  and  fragrance  of 
Nature's  choicest  flowers. 

During  the  long,  cold  winter  she  saw 
little  of  the  mountain  people.  Occasion 
ally  George  Howell  would  stop  in  on 
his  way  to  and  from  town,  and  twice 
Jerry  found  his  way  down  to  the  ranch 
on  the  prairie.  The  troubled  look  grad 
ually  left  his  face,  for  to  him  Marjie 
appeared  singularly  happy  and  contented. 
And  Ike? — Had  he  not  returned  to  his 
old  self  and  manner  again  ?  Perhaps, 
after  all,  he  had  not  done  so  wrong.  He 
began  to  think  that  things  had  turned 
out  for  the  best. 

263 


MARJIE  OF  THE  LOWER  RANCH. 

How  Marjie's  heart  burned  and  longed 
to  question  him  about  His  Highness ! 
But  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  do  so, 
and  Jerry  seldom  mentioned  his  name. 

It  was  toward  spring  when  the  news 
came  that  Howell  had  secured  a  divorce. 
It  was  justifiable,  and  the  sympathy  of 
every  one  in  the  country  was  with  him. 

Poor  Lil !  The  height  of  her  ambi 
tion  had  been  realized,  and  a  new  saloon 
in  a  railroad  town  was  headed  with  her 
name,  and  managed  by  her  Irish  partner. 


264 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

THINKING    THINGS    AND    DOING    THINGS. 

is  not  so  much  what  one 
thinks  as  what  one  does.'* 
Marjie's  soliloquy  was  aloud. 
She  seemed  regardless  of  the 
fact  that  two  listeners  raised  their  eyes 
from  their  books  and  interestedly  waited 
for  her  to  proceed.  After  deliberately 
threading  her  needle  and  taking  several 
stitches  in  the  baby's  short  frock,  she 
went  on  :  "  And  there  is  far  more  satis 
faction  in  '  doing  things,'  than  in  *  think 
ing  things.'  Most  people  just  *  think 
things '  which  is  bad  and  avails  nothing, 
and  consequently  deserves  no  praise.  It 
is  so  easy  to  think,  ordinarily  no  trouble 
at  all.  But  every  one  that  *  does  things,' 
no  matter  how  great  or  small,  noble  or 
wicked,  deserves  credit  for  the  very  move 
which  carries  humanity  along  in  its 

265 


MARJIK    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

natural  trend.  I  have  thought  long 
enough.  So  long  that  I  am  stagnated, 
saturated  in  the  mire  of  stagnant  thoughts. 
Now  I  am  going  to  do  something." 

"  I  don't  quite  understand  your  drift, 
or  your  logic,  either,  but  may  I  ask  in 
what  direction  your  ambition  is  about  to 
lead  you  ? "  quietly  asked  her  sister,  while 
Taggie  closed  her  book  and  looked  in  a 
puzzled  way  from  one  to  the  other. 

"That's  just  what  I  haven't  quite  de 
termined,"  answered  Marjie.  "  First,  I 
am  going  to  finish  baby's  dress.  Isn't  it 
a  dear?-  Then  after  that  I  am  going 
to  do  the  first  thing  that  presents  itself. 
But  it  will  have  to  present  itself,  for  I  am 
done  with  thoughts  and  thinking." 

"  Then  allow  me  to  suggest  that  you 
get  out  and  take  a  walk.  It'll  do  you 
good,  and  you  won't  have  to  think, 
either,  if  that's  what's  worrying  you," 
suggested  Tom  Howell,  as  he  turned  over 
on  the  sofa  for  another  nap,  rattling  the 
papers  that  thoughtful  Kitty  had  spread 
over  him  to  keep  off  the  draughts. 

"  Do     let's     go,     Marjie  ! "     implored 

266 


THINKING   AND    DOING   THINGS. 

Taggie.  "  I  saw  two  kinds  of  wild 
flowers  this  morning,  and  I  know  we  can 
find  a  lot  of  them  !  It's  just  fine  out,  an' 
the  snow's  most  all  gone  !  " 

Her  enthusiasm  had  the  desired  effect, 
for  Marjie  sat  bolt  upright  and  laid  her 
sewing  on  the  table. 

"  I'll  do  it,"  she  exclaimed.  "  We'll 
walk  and  walk,  —  ever  so  far,  and  never 
think  a  single  thought !  I  will  leave 
this  until  I  come  back.  —  Baby  doesn't 
need  it,  anyway.  Don't  worry,  Kitty, 
if  we  are  not  back  before  supper.  We 
will  leave  Tom  to  his  peaceful  slumber, 
with  you  for  his  guardian  angel.  Come 
on,  Taggie." 

Kitty  watched  them  from  the  window 
for  some  time,  then  she  turned  to  Tom, 
who  was  but  half  asleep,  and  said :  — 

"  Marjie  is  not  herself  to-day.  Haven't 
you  noticed  it  ?  Not  only  to-day,  but  for 
several  days  she  has  acted  queerly.  Do 
you  remember  I  thought  she  was  very 
unhappy  when  we  came  home  last  fall  ? 
But  later  on  she  seemed  to  be  her  own 
bright  self.  Perhaps  it  is  just  restlessness. 

207 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER   RANCH  . 

It  can't  be  that  she  has  met  someone 
whom  she  loves  as  I  loved  you,  dear.  If 
that  was  possible  I  could  account  for  her 
actions." 

Kitty  was  right.  Marjie  was  rest 
less, —  more  than  restless.  The  madness 
of  the  early  spring  had  crept  into  her 
veins,  filling  her  with  unrest  and  wild 
impulses.  She  felt  this  afternoon  that  she 
could  walk  to  the  end  of  the  world.  At 
the  rate  she  traveled  up  the  road,  poor, 
quiet  Taggie  thought  that  she  must  soon 
reach  it. 

Marjie  had  forgotten  to  talk,  had 
tried  not  to  think,  but  her  cheeks  were 
aflame  from  the  fire  within  her. 

Finally  the  younger  girl  stopped  short 
in  the  road,  venturing  to  remark  :  - 

"  I'm  not  a  race  horse  !  If  we  keep 
on  we  will  soon  be  up  in  the  mountains 
at  Howell's  ranch.  Oh,  Marjie,  I  wish 
we  were  going  there  !  ' 

"  Why,  you  poor  little  girl,"  exclaimed 
Marjie,  coming  back  to  her  side  and 
putting  her  arms  about  her.  "  I  believe 
you  are  homesick  !  " 

268 


THINKING   AND    DOING   THINGS. 

"  Yes,"  assented  Taggie,  half  sobbing, 
"  I  believe  I  am.  Couldn't  we  go  a  little 
farther  an'  then  we'd  be  there  ? " 

Marjie  laughed  softly. 

"  We  would  only  have  about  fifteen 
more  miles  to  go.  Just  as  you  say. — 
But  perhaps  we'd  better  turn  back  now, 
and  wait  until  to-morrow  to  go  to  the 
mountains.  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Marjie,  Marjie!"  exclaimed 
Taggie  as  she  clasped  her  arms  about  her 
friend,  "  you  don't  mean  it !  To-mor 
row  !  Why,  I  was  just  joking.  I'll 
never  be  able  to  sleep  a  wink  to-night ! 
To-morrow,  an'  I'll  see  my  dear  daddy, 
and  my  mother  again  !  And  —  every 
one  else  !  Oh,  Marjie,  I'm  so  happy  !  I 
can  dance  !  And  a  minute  ago  I  thought 
I  was  too  tired  to  go  a  step  farther. 
How  good  you  are  !  " 

"  That  will  do,  dear,"  remonstrated 
Marjie,  laughing  softly  to  hide  the  tears 
that  would  come.  "  If  I  had  known 
how  very  much  you  wished  to  go,  we 
would  have  gone  before ;  —  yet  this  is 
the  first  fine  weather  we  have  had." 

269 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

Marjie  had  not  made  up  her  mind  be 
fore  that  she  could  ever  return  to  the 
mountains.  Now  that  she  had  done  so 
she  felt  something  very  near  like  happi 
ness.  Already  her  restlessness  was  gone, 
and  much  of  the  madness  with  it,  while 
a  certain  feeling  of  excitement  predom 
inated.  She  was  like  a  child  once  more, 
with  the  queer  pain  of  expectancy  in  her 
heart.  That  night  she  could  not  eat 
her  supper,  but  she  laughed  and  chatted 
as  she  had  not  done  in  months  before. 
When  she  told  her  sister  that  they  in 
tended  to  ride  to  the  mountains  the  fol 
lowing  day,  Kitty  felt  glad  that  she  had 
at  last  found  something  to  interest  her, 
and  entered  most  heartily  into  the  pro 
ject. 

That  night  it  was  Marjie  who  did  not 
sleep.  She  had  been  up  late,  finishing 
the  little  frock  that  she  had  been  at  work 
upon  during  the  day.  It  was  very  late 
when  she  laid  it  tenderly  away  among 
the  baby's  dainty  wardrobe. 

All  the  household  had  long  before 
retired  when  Marjie  tiptoed  quietly  to 

270 


THINKING    AND    DOING    THINGS. 

the  room  which  Taggie  occupied  with 
her.  She  walked  over  to  the  girl's  nar 
row  bed,  and  smiled  when  she  saw  her 
so  fast  and  contentedly  asleep.  But  no 
sleep  came  to  her.  It  is  one  thing  to  say 
a  thing  and  another  to  do  that  same 
thing.  She  could  no  more  help  think 
ing  than  she  could  help  breathing,  for 
her  brain  was  active,  —  too  active. 

In  the  night  the  wind  whistled  shrilly 
around  the  corners  of  the  building,  and 
Marjie  lay  shivering  in  her  bed,  fearing 
that  a  storm  might  come  to  prevent 
them  from  going  to  the  mountains,  and 
to --His  Highness. 

Now  that  she  had  actually  made  up  her 
mind,  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  must  go, 
—  that  she  would  ride  through  snow 
drifts  as  high  as  her  head  to  get  there,  or 
through  blizzards  and  storms  of  the  worst. 

She  wondered  if  the  wind  whistled  as 
loudly  about  the  cabin  in  the  Retreat,  - 
if  His  Highness  heard  it,  —  if  he,  too, 
lay  awake  and  thought.  Then  she  shut 
her  hands  and  teeth  fiercely  and  suffered 
it  all  over  again. 

271 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

This  was  as  it  had  been  during  every 
other  windy  night,  and  calm  night,  too, 
throughout  the  long  winter. 

Hers  was  but  the  common  tragedy  of 
the  human  heart,  which  one  meets  at 
every  turn  in  life's  pathway.  So  common 
and  ordinary  is  it  that  it  excites  little 
comment,  yet  there  is  nothing  worse. 


272 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

AN  INTERRUPTED  GAME  OF  POKER. 

>HE  next  morning  a  thin  coat 
of  white  snow  lay  over  the 
country.  The  wind,  still 
whistling  about  the  buildings, 
brought  with  it  a  few  scattering  flakes 
which  it  gracefully  tossed  and  piled  into 
small,  white  drifts,  along  with  the  old 
diminished  and  dusty  drifts  of  the  winter. 
In  the  mountains  the  snow  fell  heavier, 
and  the  drifts,  old  and  new,  were  deeper. 
At  George  Howell's  sheep-ranch  every 
thing  proceeded  with  its  usual  monoto 
nous  regularity,  regardless  of  the  weather. 
The  large  bands  of  sheep,  each  driven  in 
different  directions,  were  now,  at  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  out  of  sight 
of  the  ranch,  quietly  and  diligently  paw 
ing  aside  the  soft  snow  for  the  tender  bits 
of  green  grass  which  the  early  spring  had 

273 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

brought  forth;  —  the  tender  young  grass, 
which  when  a  chinook  has  swept  and 
melted  off  the  snow,  sets  whole  bands  of 
sheep  crazy,  —  likewise  the  herders. 

Down  at  the  ranch,  at  ten  o'clock,  the 
cook  had  just  thrown  out  his  dish-water, 
making  a  gray,  greasy,  sloppy  spot  in  the 
white  snow.  After  surveying  it  for  a 
moment,  though  it  is  doubtful  if  he 
noted  the  effect  that  he  had  wrought, 
he  turned  about  and  quickly  entered  the 
house,  holding  aloft  the  dripping  dish- 
pan  as  he  went.  George  Hbwell  stepped 
out  of  the  door-way  as  he  bustled  into 
the  dingy  kitchen,  for  cooks  everywhere 
have  the  right  of  way. 

"  Looks  like  winter'd  set  in  ag'in,"  he 
remarked,  as  he  hung  his  dish-pan,  still 
dripping,  back  of  the  cook-stove. 

"  Yes,"  assented  Howell,  removing  his 
pipe  from  his  mouth,  "  but  it  won't  last 
long.  This  ought  to  make  fine  hunting. 
Seems  like  some  of  you  boys  would  get 
out  and  rustle  a  little  venison.  It  would 
taste  pretty  good  for  a  change,  for  we 
haven't  had  any  for  a  month  or  more." 

274 


AN  INTERRUPTED  GAME  OF  POKER. 

"  I  was  just  a-thinkin'  that  I'd  go  out 
an'  try  my  luck  at  chickens.  There's  a 
whole  flock  of  'em  down  by  the  lower 
shed.  Looks  to  be  'bout  a  hundred  in 
the  bunch.  If  they  wasn't  so  all-fired 
lazy  up  above  they'd  bring  us  down  some 
grouse.  That's  the  only  thing  worth 
eatin'  this  time  o'  the  year."  Then  Kid 
Cory  stretched  his  slender  height  in  a 
hearty  yawn. 

"  Grouse  may  be  all  right,  —  I  ain't 
denyin'  it,  but  most  any  kind  o'  fresh  meat 
'u'd  taste  good  'bout  now,"  said  the  cook, 
with  a  side-long  look  at  his  employer 
which  he  caught  direct. 

"  There  isn't  a  mutton  on  the  place  fit 
to  kill,"  declared  Howell.  "  If  you  fel 
lows  want  fresh  meat  just  get  a  move  on 
you  and  go  out  and  hunt  for  it,  or  else 
content  yourselves  with  ham  and  bacon." 

"  Well,  if  I  had  a  little  more  ambition, 
I'd  go,"  said  Kid.  "But  I'm  kind  o' 
hankerin'  after  a  little  poker.  How  does 
that  strike  you,  Howell  ?  " 

Howell  made  no  answer  to  Kid's  ques 
tion,  but  it  reached  him,  for  he  began 

275 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 


nervously  walking  back  and  forth 
through  the  room,  puffing  most  vigor 
ously  at  his  pipe. 

He  was  still  striding  about,  silent  but 
thoughtful,  when  a  deep,  rich  voice  out 
side  brought  him,  together  with  the 
other  occupants  of  the  kitchen,  quickly 
to  the  door. 

"  Hello  !      Any  one  at  home  ?  ' 

"  Lord,  it's  His  Highness,"  exclaimed 
Kid,  stepping  back  into  the  room. 

"  Yes,  what  of  it  ?  "  inquired  the  man, 
dismounting  from  his  horse.  "  We  are 
all  friends  here,  are  we  not  ?  Here  is 
some  venison  which  I'll  give  you  for  a 
drink  of  whiskey." 

"Wait  a  minute,"  called  Jerry,  riding 
up  at  that  instant.  "  I'll  help  you  down 
with  that  fellow.  Ain't  he  a  big  one, 
though  ?  We  got  him  about  two  miles 
back  in  the  gulch.  Well,  now  I  could 
'a'  helped  you  !  ' 

"  It's  just  a  feather-weight,"  said  His 
Highness,  lifting  the  great  buck  down 
from  the  horse  as  if  it  had  been  a  sack  of 
flour. 

276 


AN  INTERRUPTED  GAME  OF  POKER. 

The  man  was  strong  with  the  strength 
that  hard  toil,  exercise,  and  the  health 
ful  air  of  the  mountains  give  to  men. 
Howell  and  the  others  looked  at  him  ad 
miringly.  Perhaps  they  could  have  done 
it  also,  but  not  so  easily  or  so  gracefully. 
They  admired  his  great  strength  while 
they  feared  him. —  They  feared  the  man, 
himself, —  his  intellect  and  his  quick, 
decisive  speech.  He  knew  this  and  it 
amused  him;  —  yet  he  wore  his  chains 
with  no  lighter  heart  in  consequence. 
But  they  had  one  thing  in  common,— 
the  love  of  gambling. 

This  day  a  game  was  soon  started  and 
each  man,  for  the  time  being,  forgot  his 
troubles  in  the  excitement  of  the  betting. 

At  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  they 
were  still  playing.  His  Highness,  oddly 
enough,  was  losing.  The  others,  some 
what  evenly  divided,  were  winning. —  An 
exciting  game  that  gave  promise  of  ex 
tending  into  the  next  day. 

But  at  five  o'clock,  Marjie  walked 
quietly  into  the  room.  Consternation 
reigned  for  a  moment,  but  no  one  moved 

277 


MARJIE  OF  THE  LOWER  RANCH. 

except  Howell,  who  overturned  a  chair 
as  he  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  Don't  let  me  interrupt  you  !  "  ex 
claimed  the  girl  sweetly.  "  Go  on  with 
your  game.  I  will  make  myself  at 
home.  Really,  I  have  already  done  so. 
Jerry  took  care  of  my  horse." 

"  Well,  this  is  a  surprise  !  You're  the 
last  person  in  the  world  I  expected  to  see 
to-day  !  "  exclaimed  Howell. 

"  Nothing  is  wrong.  Don't  be 
alarmed,"  Marjie  said.  "  I  rode  up  here 
with  Taggie.  Jerry  went  on  home  with 
her, —  has  taken  her  home.  I  waited  in 
the  kitchen  until  I  was  warm.  But  I 
don't  want  to  interrupt  you.  Do  con 
tinue,  or  I  shall  feel  that  I  have  taken  a 
wrong  moment  to  come  here.  I  have 
already  made  myself  at  home.  Do  go 
on  with  your  cards." 

"  Well,  are  you  going  to  quit  ? "  in 
quired  His  Highness  at  this  point. 

"  Of  course  he  isn't,"  answered  the 
girl.  "  Why,  what  a  pile  of  money ! 
This  will  be  a  rare  chance  for  me  to 
learn  the  game.  If  you  don't  mind  I 

278 


AN  INTERRUPTED  GAME  OF  POKER. 

will  watch  you  for  awhile.  Please  sit 
down  and  go  on  with  it." 

"Yes,"  said  His  Highness,  "we've 
waited  long  enough.  Can  you  open  that 
jack-pot  ? " 

Howell  took  his  seat  and  picked  up 
his  cards  from  the  table.  After  glancing 
at  them  quickly,  he  said  : 

"  Well,  I  guess  I'll  open  the  pot  for 
what's  in  it, —  sixty  dollars." 

Marjie  stood  between  him  and  His 
Highness,  and  looked  with  seeming  in 
terest  from  one  hand  to  the  other. 

"  What  does  it  take  to  open  a  '  jack 
pot  '  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"A  pair  of  jacks  or  better,"  answered 
Howell,  as  he  watched  Kid  Cory  and  his 
brother  drop  out.  His  Highness  held  up 
his  cards. 

"  I'll  stay  and  raise  you  forty,"  he  said. 

The  faces  of  the  men  were  expression 
less. 

"  I'll  see  you  forty,"  said  Howell. 
Then  he  discarded. 

"  How  many  do  you  want  ?  "  inquired 
the  dealer. 


MARJIE  OF  THE  LOWER  RANCH. 

"  Two,"  answered  Howell. 

"  One,"  said  His  Highness  shortly,  at 
which  Howell  looked  up  at  him  quickly, 
trying  in  vain  to  study  his  quiet,  expres 
sionless  face. 

Marjie  looked  into  his  hand.  He  held 
nothing  but  small  cards  and  no  pairs.  She 
did  not  understand  that  he  had  drawn  to 
a  "  bob-tail  flush  "  and  caught  a  card  of 
another  suit.  That  was  beyond  her 
knowledge  of  the  game.  As  the  betting 
progressed  she  felt  a  horror  in  the  belief 
that  he  was  trying  to  cheat  Howell.  She 
had  never  learned  that  deceptions  are  hon 
orable  in  this  so-called  game  of  "  bluff." 

Howell  held  three  kings  and  felt  con 
fident. 

"  Well,  it's  up  to  you,  Ike,"  he  said,  as 
he  looked  at  his  three  kings  and  the  two 
useless  cards  that  he  had  drawn. 

"  I  pass,"  answered  His  Highness,  in 
the  same  quiet  tone  that  he  had  used 
throughout  the  game. 

"Well,  I'll  bet  you  two  hundred," 
said  Howell  confidently,  pushing  it  upon 
the  pile  in  the  center  of  the  table. 

280 


AN  INTERRUPTED  GAME  OF  POKER. 


"  I'll  see  you  two  hundred  and  go  you 
five  hundred  better."  A  slight,  almost 
unperceivable  expression  of  confidence 
had  crept  into  His  Highness's  voice. 
Howell  hesitated.  Ike  either  held  fours, 
a  full-house,  or  he  had  drawn  a  flush,  — 
any  of  which  was  better  than  his  three 
kings. 

"  Take  the  pot,"  said  Howell.  "  I 
guess  I've  played  enough  for  to-day." 

The  men  got  up  from  the  table,  Ike 
with  a  feeling  of  relief.  Marjie  had 
been  so  near  to  him  that  the  folds  of  her 
heavy  gray  skirt  touched  him.  If  it  had 
been  her  soft  arms  he  would  not  have 
felt  more  insanely  mad,  more  truly  un 
nerved. 

Outwardly  he  was  as  calm  and  uncon 
cerned  as  though  she  had  been  on  the 
other  side  of  the  world.  His  expression 
had  never  altered  since  he  had  first  be 
come  aware  of  her  presence  in  the  room. 
Every  thought  had  seemed  concentrated 
upon  the  table  before  him. 

How  could  she  know  that  his  love 
was  almost  maddening  him  ? 

281 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

THE    SACRIFICE    OF    A    CHARACTER. 

>HE  poker  players  moved  away 
from  the  table.  Two  of  the 
men  went  out  of  the  room, 
eager  to  straighten  up  their 
tired  bodies.  His  Highness  placed  his 
winnings  in  his  pocket,  and  without  so 
much  as  glancing  at  Marjie,  followed  the 
men. 

Marjie  went  up  to  him,  abruptly  break 
ing  off  her  conversation  with  Howell, 
leaving  him  standing  alone  near  the  table. 
Ike  had  reached  the  door  which  opened 
into  the  kitchen,  wrhen  she  laid  her  hand 
upon  his  arm  with  a  motion  to  detain 
him. 

He  turned  about  and  faced  her,  sternly 
erect,  and  still  without  a  change  of  ex 
pression.  For  an  instant  her  courage 
failed,  and  she  made  a  quick,  almost 

282 


THE    SACRIFICE    OF   A    CHARACTER. 

unperceivable  motion  to  draw  bnck  from 
him,  then  quickly  all  the  pride  in  her 
nature  flew  to  her  assistance,  and  she 
raised  her  head  and  spoke  to  him  as  she 
would  have  spoken  to  Kid  Cory. 

"  Jerry  took  your  horse  and  rode  home 
with  Taggie.  He  asked  me  to  tell  you 
to  wait  until  he  returned,  —  that  he 
would  be  back  directly.  It  is  time  now 
that  he  came  so  you  won't  have  long  to 
wait." 

Howell  walked  past  them  out  of  the 
room.  He  had  some  work  to  do,  — 
besides  he  remembered  what  she  had 
once  told  him.  When  had  he  ever  for 
gotten  it  ?  But  the  man  went  no  farther 
than  the  dimly  lit  kitchen. 

Marjie  ceased  speaking  and  stood  quiet 
ly  waiting  for  Ike  to  go.  He  made  no 
move  but  stood  there,  mute.  Then  the 
mask  fell  from  his  countenance,  and  he 
looked  at  her  as  she  dreamed  and  knew 
he  had  looked  that  night  under  the  stars. 
The  faint  color  fled  from  her  cheeks. 
She  stood  there,  trembling.  For  an  in 
stant  the  past  months  seemed  unreal. 

283 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

She  was  back  in  the  Retreat  under  the 
star-lit  canopy  of  a  summer  sky, —  a  girl 
untouched  by  sorrow. 

Yet  in  another  instant  she  recalled 
what  followed  with  a  force  astonishing. 
She  remembered  the  anguish  of  the 
awakening  and  the  suffering  of  months. 
This  man  had  taught  her  the  power  of 
love,  and  then,  forsook  her,  —  worse, 
had  passed  it  off  as  lightly  as  if  she  had 
sung  him  a  song  or  entertained  him 
pleasantly.  Clearly  and  quickly  such 
thoughts  passed  through  her  mind  while 
she  stood  there  waiting  for  him  to  go. 
At  length  he  spoke  :  — 

"  Are  you  going  to  stay  here  long  ? ' 
When   she  answered    him     composure 
came,  and   her   tone  was  much  the  same 
as  before. 

"  A  few  days,  I  think.  I  am  not  sure. 
It  depends  upon  Taggie.  I  don't  want 
to  take  back  a  homesick  girl." 

"  But  you  don't  intend  to  stay  here  ?  ' 
"  Why    not  ?      I    stayed    here    before. 
Was  the  woman,   Lil,   any   protection   to 
me  then?'      Her  voice  had  grown  sharp. 

284 


THE    SACRIFICE    OF    A    CHARACTER. 

"  You  know  best,"  he  said  quietly, 
"  but  I  would  rather  -  -  Why  don't  you 
stay  with  your  friend  ?  " 

"  Taggie  ?  There  is  no  room  for  me 
there.  They  haven't  room  enough  for 
themselves.  Is  there  any  particular  rea 
son  why  you  do  not  wish  me  to  stay  here  ? 
Do  you  consider  it  indiscreet  or  unlady 
like  ?  I  am  sure  I  appreciate  the  interest 
you  take  in  me  !  '  She  spoke  sarcasti 
cally.  "  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  have 
me  stay  in  the  Retreat !  " 

His  face  flushed  darkly. 

"  I  wish  you  good-evening,"  he  said, 
and  turned  away.  Marjie  took  a  step 
toward  him. 

"  Wait,"  she  cried,  with  all  the  re 
morse  of  her  soul  sounding  in  her  voice. 
"  Wait  until  I  tell  you  !  Oh,  I  didn't 
mean  it !  I  never  thought  when  I 
spoke, —  and  you  had  made  me  so 
wretched,  —  so  bitter  !  I  am  so  sorry  ! 
You  know  I  would  not,  —  could  not 
think  that!  Won't  you  tell  me  that  I 
am  forgiven  ?  Oh,  I've  been  so  wretched 
and  unhappy  all  these  months !  It  all 

285 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

came  to  me  as  I  stood  here, —  all  that 
I've  suffered,  and  it  made  me  bitter  and 
sarcastic  ;  —  but  I've  never  lost  faith  in 
you,  never!  I  still  believe  in  you, — just 
as  much  as  I  did  that  night, —  that  last 
evening.  What  made  you  do  it  ?  Our 
love  meant  everything  to  me,  —  I  should 
not  have  been  afraid  of  anything  —  with 
you  !  Anything  would  have  been  better 
for  me  than  this,  —  loving  you  so  !  Turn 
around  and  tell  me  that  you  under 
stand, —  that  you  do  not  mind  my  foolish 
words,  —  that  I  am  forgiven  !  -  -  Why 
won't  you  speak  to  me  ?  Oh,  can't  you 
see  that  my  brain,  —  my  heart  cannot  en 
dure  it  ?  Speak  !  —  If  there  is  any  man 
in  you,  speak  to  me  !  ' 

Then  he  spoke  ;  and  his  voice  sounded 
strange,  but  he  did  not  turn  around  to 
her. 

"  That  is  it.  There  is  no  manhood  in 
me.  You  were  perfectly  right  in  your 
first  assertion.  I  would  prefer  to  have  you 
stay  in  the  Retreat.  Indeed,  I  would  be 
very  kind  to  you  for  a  few  days.  Can 
you  not  come  to  gratify  my  whim  ? " 

280 


THE    SACRIFICE   OF   CHARACTER. 

If  she  could  have  seen  his  face,  her 
own  might  not  have  become  so  startled 
or  so  ghastly,  for  his  was  like  the  face  of 
a  corpse. —  But  he  kept  his  back  to  her 
as  he  spoke  those  lying  words  which  he 
thought  would  kill  all  the  love  and  re 
spect  that  she  had  ever  entertained  for 
him. 

"  Think  it  over,"  he  added,  "  and  let 
me  know." 

She  was  white  to  the  lips. 

"  I  have  no  need  to  think,  and  only 
this  to  say  :  I  hate  you,  despise  you  now, 
as  much  as  I  ever  fancied  that  I  loved 
you  !  I  hope  I  will  never  see  your  face 
again  !  " 

"  Well,  perhaps  you  will  change  your 
mind  about  that  proposition  sometime," 
he  said  as  he  walked  blindly  away.  With 
a  quick,  unconscious  motion  he  tore  from 
his  neck,  a  bright  red  silk  handkerchief, 
throwing  it  down  upon  the  kitchen  floor 
as  he  went  out.  The  veins  of  his  throat 
seemed  bursting. 

Afterward  he  wondered  how  he  had 
said  those  words  to  her.  He  never  re 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 


membered  how  he  walked  through  the 
dark  kitchen  out  of  doors,  —  or  how  he 
took  Jerry's  horse  and  rode  back  to  the 
Retreat. 

Sitting  near  the  door  was  Howell,  and 
he  had  listened  to  every  word  that  had 
been  spoken.  After  Ike  rode  away  he 
stooped  over  and  picked  up  the  red  hand 
kerchief  from  the  floor,  putting  it  care 
fully  in  his  pocket.  Then  he  went  to 
talk  with  Marjie. 


288 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

THE    VICTIM     OF    CUNNING. 

OWELL  found  the  room 
empty.  Marjie,  nearly  dis 
tracted,  stunned,  and  too 
wretched  for  the  sight  of 
human  eyes,  had  stolen  away.  She  had 
locked  herself  in  the  room  that  had  been 
hers.  Howell  possessed  too  much  dis 
cretion  to  follow  her  there  ;  but  he  sat 
down  in  a  chair  that  she  had  leaned 
against,  and  figured  out  a  plan  of  action. 
To  him,  the  battle  seemed  half  won. 
Ike  had  already  caused  his  own  undoing. 
But  a  woman's  heart,  —  and  such  a  heart, 
could  find  excuse  for  more  than  that. 
He  reasoned  that,  later,  when  she  had 
thought  it  over,  she  would  see  that  the 
man  had  sacrificed  himself  to  save  her 
from  a  miserable  existence  ;  —  had  tried 
with  one  stroke  to  put  an  end  to  her 

289 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER   RANCH. 

love.  Marjie  was  a  bright  girl.  He  felt 
sure  that  she  would  soon  figure  it  out. 
The  only  thing  now  for  him  to  do  was 
to  convince  her  that  Ike  was  really  the 
villain  that  he  had  represented  himself 
to  be. 

Howell  was  never  without  resources. 
He  could  not  have  been  the  adviser  of 
the  band  of  outlaws  that  he  was,  making 
money  with  astonishing  rapidity,  if  he 
had  not  possessed  the  art  of  cunning. 
In  this  case  he  would  require  help.  His 
men,  —  he  knew  them.  They  were 
faithful  enough  through  necessity,  - 
doubly  so  if  they  caught  the  sight  of 
money,  and  for  this  they  should  have  it 
in  plenty. 

Since  they  had  proved  reliable  in  other 
affairs,  he  decided  to  turn  to  them  and 
present  the  case  in  such  a  fashion  that 
they  would  undertake  it.  He  half  looked 
for  failure.  If  it  came  he  would  lose  all, 
but  what  harm  could  come  to  him 
through  the  helpless  girl  ?  If  he  won, 
—  he  must  win !  She  was  well  worth 
the  attempt. 

290 


THE   VICTIM   OF    CUNNING. 

He  sat  in  meditative  silence  for  a  long 
time.  Finally  Jerry  hurried  into  the 
room,  interrupting  his  chain  of  thought. 

"  Where's  Ike  ?  I've  been  using  his 
horse.  " 

"  I  believe  he's  gone  back,"  answered 
Howell,  without  moving  from  his  com 
fortable  position  in  the  chair. 

"Well,  now  that's  funny,"  said  the 
boy.  "  I  thought  sure  he'd  wait  till  I 
got  back  with  his  horse,  for  he  don't  like 
ridin'  mine,  noway.  Where's  Marjie  ? 
I've  got  to  give  her  a  message  from  the 
Winter  girls  before  I  forget  it  all.  My, 
but  they  can  talk  !  They  just  about  ate 
Taggie  up  when  she  got  there,  but  I 
suppose  they'll  all  be  havin'  her  wash 
dishes  for  them  in  the  morning  !  That's 
the  way  it  goes.  It's  a  wonder  what  that 
poor  kid  takes  from  them.  The  snow'll 
all  be  gone  in  the  mornin'  except  in  the 
drifts.  It's  chinookin'  to  beat  the  band. 
I  see  the  sheep  below  has  just  turned  into 
the  lower  shed." 

"  It  must  be  warming  up  consider 
able,"  said  Howell. 

291 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

"  Yes,  a  whole  lot ;  but  I  reckon  the 
girls  had  a  pretty  cold  ride.  Strong 
wind  a  blowin'  in  their  faces  all  the  way 
up.  Has  Marjie  got  warmed  up  yet?' 

Howell  rose  nervously  from  his  seat. 

"  I'll  see,"  he  said  quickly,  and  went 
over  to  the  door  of  Marjie's  room. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  inquired  in  response 
to  his  knock. 

"  I  was  wondering  if  you  were  cold. 
I'll  have  a  stove  put  in  there  and  a  fire 
started  at  once."  His  voice  was  filled 
with  solicitude.  It  touched  her  at  that 
moment  deeply. 

"Thank  you,"  she  replied.  "I  will 
be  out  in  a  moment."  Then  Howell 
went  away  to  make  arrangements  about 
the  stove. 

When  Marjie  came  out  of  the  room  a 
few  minutes  later,  she  found  Jerry,  who 
had  heard  her  voice,  waiting  for  her 
there. 

"  It  is  rather  cold,"  said  the  girl. 
"  And  I  did  not  realize  before  how  tired 
one's  first  horseback  ride  of  the  season 
could  make  a  person.  I  think  that  I 

292 


THE   VICTIM    OF    CUNNING. 

shall  be  very  glad  to  get  in  bed  early  to 
night." 

"  You  do  look  about  fagged  out,"  he 
said  sympathetically.  "  Taggie  got  home 
all  right  and  her  folks  are  mighty  glad  to 
see  her,  —  an'  I  reckon  she  was  about  as 
glad  to  see  them.  Her  sisters  told  me  a 
lot  of  things  to  tell  you  for  them :  - 
they'd  fix  up  a  bed  for  you  with  Taggie 
if  you'd  come  there  an'  stay  with 
them  ;  —  to  thank  you  for  takin'  such 
good  care  of  her  all  winter,  —  an'  a  lot 
more,  but  I  can't  remember  which  one 
said  which.  Oh,  yes,  I  'bout  forgot ;  — 
Mrs.  Winter  said  to  tell  you  if  you 
wouldn't  care  to  come  there  an'  stay,  that 
she'd  expect  you  there  to  dinner  to-mor 
row,  anyway.  She'd  look  for  you  sure." 

"Thank  you,  Jerry,  for  remembering 
so  much.  I  will  surely  go  up  there  to 
morrow.  Didn't  you  get  an  invitation, 
also  ? "  He  laughed  heartily. 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,"  he  answered. 
"  But  I  guess  if  it  wasn't  for  the  old  man 
a  standin'  around,  that  I  would  'a'  got 
one,  though.  You  ought  to  'a'  seen  him 

293 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER   RANCH. 

look  at  me  when  I  rode  up  there  with 
Taggie.  I  reckon  he  thought  for  a 
minute  that  I'd  eloped  with  her  !  But  I 
just  went  right  in  the  house  an'  got 
warm.  I  wasn't  cold,  though,  such  a 
short  ways.  But  the  old  lady  asked  me 
in  so  I  thought  I  might  as  well  go. 

"  You  never  heard  so  much  jabberin' 
and  talkin'  in  all  your  born  days,  as  those 
old  maids  got  off.  Just  jabbered  all  the 
time.  I'll  bet  Taggie  wished  she  was 
down  below  again.  I  hear  the  cook  in 
there  puttin'  grub  on  the  stove.  I  guess 
I'll  wait  for  supper.  Ike's  run  off  with 
my  horse.  I  don't  know  what's  got  into 
him.  He  tried  this  new  one  of  mine 
just  once,  an'  then  he  swore  that  he'd 
never  ride  the  thing  again.  I  reckon  he 
must  'a'  took  a  notion  to  go  pretty  quick 
or  he'd  never  gone  off  on  that  horse." 

"  I  told  him  what  you  asked  me  to," 
quietly  said  Marjie.  Then  with  a  won 
derful  change  of  voice  and  expression, 
went  on.  "  Don't  he  really  like  your 
horse?  —  And  wouldn't  he  naturally  ride 
it  ?  Oh,  I  might  have  known  !  —  I  — 

294 


THE   VICTIM    OF   CUNNING. 

Oh,"  -Then  she  laid  her  head  on  the 
table  and  sobbed  softly. 

Jerry  was  too  embarrassed  to  speak. 
He  could  only  stand  nervously  fingering 
his  hat  and  watch  her. 

Presently  she  raised  her  head  and 
laughed  softly,  just  as  suddenly  as  she  had 
broken  down.  It  was  something  to  dis 
cover  that  the  man  she  loved  was  a  hero 
instead  of  a  villain  !  For  the  time  being 
Marjie  was  the  same  happy  girl  that  she 
had  been  the  previous  summer. 

After  supper  she  was  left  alone  with 
George  Howell,  and  the  man's  acuteness 
soon  brought  him  to  a  conviction  that 
Marjie  had  already  reached  a  happy  con 
clusion  in  regard  to  His  Highness.  This 
was  directly  against  his  plans.  He  de 
cided  to  make  arrangements  immediately 
to  bring  things  to  a  focus. 

Marjie  preferred  to  go  to  her  room 
instead  of  talking  with  George  Howell, 
but  there  seemed  to  be  no  alternative. 

During  the  course  of  their  conversa 
tion  she  asked  him  questions  about  the 
poker  game  that  she  had  witnessed  that 

295 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

afternoon.  He  took  the  cards  and  ex 
plained  and  illustrated  the  game  to  her. 
Finally  she  asked  :  — 

"  Can   you    tell    me    how   a   hand    of 

J 

small  mixed  cards  could  possibly  beat 
three  kings?" 

"  It  could  not,"  declared  Howell. 
"  Was  that  the  kind  of  a  hand  Ike  held 
against  me  ? }: 

"I — am  not  sure,"  she  replied  ner 
vously,  falling  suddenly  into  a  deep 
study. 

"  Well,  if  that's  the  kind  of  a  hand  he 
held  up,  he  cheated,  that's  all  ! "  ex 
claimed  Howell.  "  But  that's  nothing 
for  that  fellow.  He's  a  noted  cheat  and 
gambler,  —  and  a  lot  worse  than  that. 
He's  the  sleekest  liar  that  ever  came  to 
the  country.  I'm  glad  to  notice  that 
you've  got  over  your  liking  for  him.  I'd 
told  you  last  fall  but,  —  well,  I  thought 
you'd  get  over  it  right  away,  and  gener 
ally  a  person  isn't  thanked  for  meddling 
in  anything  like  that.  But  I  know  the 
fellow,  and  I  think  you'll  take  it  kindly 
when  I  warn  you  to  look  out  for  him. 

29G 


THE    VICTIM    OF    CUNNING. 


If  he  makes  a  false  move  about  you,  it 
will  be  the  last  of  a  long  record  !  " 

Marjie  got  up  unsteadily,  saying  in  a 
voice  pitifully  soft  and  quiet :  — 

"  You  are  very  kind,  I  suppose.  I 
don't  quite  understand.  My  brain  has 
stopped  working,  I  think.  I  am  very 
tired  to-night.  Good-night." 


297 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

A    QUEER     KIDNAPPING. 

tARJIE'S  brain  must  have  been 
very  tired  that  night  or  she 
would  not  so  readily  have  ac 
cepted  Howell's  version  of 
His  Highness's  character.  It  was  also 
tired  the  next  day,  and  she  made  no 
attempt  to  think. 

There  was  no  reason  why  she  should 
doubt  Howell's  word.  She  had  always 
liked  and  trusted  him.  It  was  the  man 
ner  of  the  man  to  appear  candid  and 
truthful.  His  frank,  open  demeanor  had 
kept  the  public  eye  of  suspicion  away 
from  him  for  many  years.  No  one 
dreamed  that  he  was  the  connecting  link 
between  the  outer  world  and  this  band 
of  outlaws  who  were  doing  their  unlaw 
ful  work  in  such  a  mysterious  manner. 
Not  even  Howell's  own  brother  knew 

298 


A   QUEER   KIDNAPPING. 


of  it,  —  but  then  Tom  had  not  lived  in 
the  country  very  long.  It  was  not  sur 
prising  that  Marjie  in  the  numbness  of 
her  grief  trusted  him. 

During  the  morning  of  the  next  day 
she  was  unusually  quiet,  and,  compared 
with  her  normal  bright  self,  appeared 
almost  stupid.  At  the  breakfast  table 
she  mentioned  that  she  intended  to  take 
dinner  at  Winter's  ranch.  Howell  looked 
up  quickly,  lamenting  that  he  would  be 
unable  to  accompany  her  there,  but 
added :  — 

"  You  are  such  a  thorough  little  West 
erner  that  I  have  no  fear  for  you  in  day 
time  anywhere." 

"  I  suppose  that  I  am  not  wise  enough 
to  feel  fear,"  she  replied.  "  I  don't 
believe  that  I  was  ever  really  afraid  of 
anything.  But  out  here  where  no  one 
lives  there  is  no  danger.  I  wouldn't 
like  to  take  you  away  from  your  work, 
and  I  am  sure  that  I  shall  enjoy  my  ride 
alone." 

"  Well,  I  will  come  up  there  and  get 
you  after  supper,  —  about  nine  o'clock, 

299 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

-will  that  do?"  Howell  asked  ner 
vously. 

"  Perfectly,"  replied  the  girl.  "  You 
are  very  kind,  though  I  assure  you  I  am 
not  afraid  to  come  home  by  myself.  It 
isn't  any  different  now  than  it  was  last 
summer,  is  it  ?  " 

"  But  I  wouldn't  think  of  letting  you," 
exclaimed  Howell.  "  I'd  never  forgive 
myself  if  anything  happened  to  you  !  " 

It  was  nearly  noon  when  Marjie  rode 
up  the  lonely  road  toward  the  Winters' 
home.  Their  ranch  had  been  completely 
fenced  since  the  fall  before,  and  now  the 
only  way  to  enter  the  place  was  to  go  up 
within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  old 
deserted  cabin  and  take  a  short  cut 
through  a  brush-covered  gulch.  The 
cool,  sweet  air  refreshed  the  girl  and  was 
balm  for  her  tired  brain  and  wounded 
spirit.  A  tiny  breath  of  peace  touched 
her  soul.  She  allowed  her  horse  to  walk 
along,  and  occasionally  it  would  jerk 
down  its  head  and  nibble  at  the  short 
green  grass  along  the  trail,  as  she  mused 
silently  and  unmindful  of  her  surround- 

300 


A    QUEER    KIDNAPPING. 


ings.  Once  she  realized  that  she  was 
humming  some  light  air,  and  it  gave  her 
as  much  of  a  shock  as  it  would  had  she 
caught  herself  laughing  at  a  funeral. 
But  was  not  this  the  funeral  of  her  own 
best  self?  Down  through  the  gulch  the 
new  road  was  not  so  well  worn  hut  that 
she  was  obliged  to  duck  her  head  to 
avoid  the  leafless,  switch-like  branches 
of  the  willow  brush,  yet  still  she  meditated 
and  dreamed.  Presently,  however,  a 
sudden  shying  of  the  horse  threw  one 
branch  directly  in  her  face,  and  before 
she  could  recover  herself  or  clear  away 
the  brush  from  her  eyes,  a  stern  voice 
commanded :  - 

"  Hold  up  your  hands  !  " 

She  felt  her  horse  jump  backward, 
frightened  at  the  grasp  of  a  strong  arm. 
Before  she  had  time  to  comprehend  the 
situation,  she  was  seized  by  a  masked 
man  who  appeared,  phantom  like,  at  her 
side.  Her  hands  were  fastened  securely 
behind  her  back  and  a  bandage  tied  over 
her  eyes.  —  All  this  in  the  face  of  a  gun 
held  by  the  man  in  front. 

301 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

For  one  moment  she  was  actually 
frightened,  the  attack  had  been  so  sud 
den  and  complete,  resistance  altogether 
impossible.  Then  she  found  her  voice. 
"  Well,  are  you  going  to  kidnap  me  ?  " 
There  was  no  answer.  Her  horse  began 
to  move  slowly.  She  could  not  tell 
whether  she  was  going  on  or  turning 
back,  and  began  to  wish  most  heartily 
that  George  Howell  had  been  with  her. 
What  could  these  ruffians  intend  to  do 
with  her  ?  She  had  heard  of  people 
being  held  for  ransom,  and  as  the  thought 
took  shape  she  felt  that  just  now  she 
would  willingly  give  them  all  her  wealth 
for  her  freedom.  In  her  excitement  she 
had,  for  the  first  time,  forgotten  her 
trouble." 

"  Say,"  she  ventured  again,  "  if  you 
will  tell  me  what  you  want  with  me, 
perhaps  we  can  settle  this  thing  now.  I 
am  not  enjoying  myself  particularly  well  ! 
How  much  do  you  want  to  let  me  go  ? ' 
Still  no  answer. 

On  they  went,  traveling  very  slowly. 
Now  she  felt  that  they  were  taking  her 

302 


A   QUEER    KIDNAPPING. 


over  the  road  she  had  just  traveled ; 
next  they  began  to  climb  a  steep  hillside, 
and  she  knew  they  were  going  in  the 
direction  of  the  old  cabin.  What  were 
they  going  to  do  ?  She  felt  sure  that  she 
ought  to  laugh,  it  was  so  ridiculous  to 
kidnap  a  person  in  broad  daylight  !  Yet 
she  could  not  laugh.  Then  she  remem 
bered,  and  made  up  her  mind  that  it 
mattered  little  now  what  became  of  her. 
But  she  was  curious  to  learn  her  fate. 
The  silence  of  these  kidnappers  irri 
tated  her  beyond  endurance.  Again  she 
spoke : — 

"  Now,  see  here  !  Be  reasonable !  A 
moment  ago  I  would  have  given  you  all 
the  money  I  have  in  the  world,  which  is 
considerable  more  than  you  ever  saw ! 
But  now  I  wouldn't  give  you  more  than 
a  thousand  dollars  for  my  release,  possibly 
two.  In  another  minute  I  won't  give 
you  ten  cents,  for  I  am  beginning  not  to 
care.  So  if  you  expect  to  get  anything 
out  of  this,  you'd  better  speak  up  quick  !  " 

"We  had  orders  not  to  speak,"  said  a 
muffled  voice  in  the  rear.  "  But  if  you 

303 


MARJIK  OF  THE  LOWER  RANCH. 

make  any  noise,  you'll  git  yourself  in 
trouble  !  '' 

"  Well,  I  am  not  likely  to  waste  my 
voice  on  empty  mountain  tops,"  she  re 
turned.  "But  I'd  feel  very  grateful  to 
you  if  you  would  tell  me  what  you  are 
going  to  do  with  me." 

"  Wait  an'  see  !  "  growled  the  man  be 
hind. 

"  Oh,  there  is  a  chance  of  my  seeing, 
then,  is  there  ?  I'm  glad  to  find  that 
much  out,  for  this  thing  hurts  my  eyes  ! 
You've  tied  it  on  too  tight  !  " 

When  they  climbed  the  hill  and  jour 
neyed  on  for  a  short  distance,  Marjie  was 
lifted  from  the  horse,  and  half  carried, 
half  pushed,  \vas  forced  into  a  building  of 
some  sort.  She  heard  a  door  behind  her 
forcibly  shut  and  barred,  and  then  the 
quick  galloping  of  horses  w^hich  soon  died 
away  in  the  distance.  She  was  left  alone. 

She  was  not  sure  that  she  was  absolute 
ly  alone  until  by  dint  of  rubbing  her  head 
against  a  projecting  log,  she  pulled  the 
bandage  away  from  her  eyes.  A  desolate 
room  containing  a  box  or  two,  a  few  tin 

304 


A    QUEER    KIDNAPPING. 


dishes,  a  bunk,  and  the  dead  ashes  of  a 
campfire  met  her  sight.  The  shack  was 
without  a  window,  but  light  in  plenty 
poured  in  through  great  cracks  where  the 
chinking  had  fallen  out. 

Where  was  she  ?  It  could  not  be  the 
old  deserted  cabin,  for  the  roof  of  that, 
as  she  plainly  remembered,  had  partially 
caved  in.  But  what  other  old  building 
could  it  be  ? 

She  struggled  awhile  with  the  thongs 
that  bound  her  hands  together,  but  it  was 
useless  pulling  and  resulted  only  in  red 
wrists  and  swollen  hands.  So  she  sat 
down  upon  one  of  the  boxes  and  con 
sidered,  but  without  result. 

Where  could  she  be  ?  There  was  only 
one  old  cabin  anywhere  near  ;  of  that  she 
felt  positive. 

An  extra  sized  crack  drew  her  atten 
tion.  She  got  up  from  the  box,  and  go 
ing  over  to  it,  looked  out  upon  the  sun 
lit  hills.  The  scene  was  very  familiar. 
It  was  the  old  cabin,  but  patched  until  it 
was  scarcely  recognizable. 

She  felt  glad  to  know  where  they  had 

305 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

imprisoned  her.  There  was  a  chance 
that  some  one  might  possibly  be  going 
by  that  way  before  night  and  she  could 
easily  make  herself  heard.  The  thought 
consoled  her  and  she  found  herself  think 
ing  more  rationally  than  she  had  done  for 
some  time.  If  only  Jerry  would  happen 
along! --Or  Ike!  What  wouldn't  he 
do  to  those  men  who  had  treated  her  in 
this  manner? — But  Ike  was  false!  — 
No,  he  was  not  false !  Not  if  all  the 
world  said  so,  —  not  if  he,  himself,  told 
her  so  a  thousand  times!  —  She  would 
not  believe  it ! 

In  her  new  difficulty  she  turned  in 
stinctively  to  him  with  all  the  confidence 
of  a  child.  She  hoped  that  it  would  be 
he,  not  Jerry  who  might  come  and  rescue 
her.  After  all  she  did  not  mind  this  ad 
venture  so  much, --if  only  Ike  would 
come,  and  if  she  could  but  release  her 
hands.  How  they  hurt ! 

Then  she  went  about  the  room  search 
ing  for  a  knife  or  a  piece  of  tin,  —  any 
thing  that  she  could  insert  in  a  crack  of 
the  wall  and  rub  the  stout  cord  upon. 

300 


A    QUEER    KIDNAPPING. 


Something  red  lying  near  the  door  at 
tracted  her  attention.  She  moved  it  with 
her  foot  and  found  that  it  was  the  band 
age  that  had  been  tied  over  her  eyes. 
Something  familiar  about  it  made  her 
examine  it  closely.  She  gave  a  low  cry, 
and  stooping  down  upon  the  floor,  raised 
it  up  with  her  teeth.  It  was  the  hand 
kerchief  that  she  had  tied  over  His  High- 
ness's  shoulder  when  he  had  been  wounded, 
and  which  she  remembered  to  have  seen 
about  his  throat  the  evening  before.  Her 
own  initials  were  embroidered  in  one 
corner. 

She  dropped  it  upon  a  box  and  tried  to 
spread  it  out  before  her,  but  it  was  so 
knotted  that  she  found  it  impossible. 

How  did  it  come  there,  —  and  around 
her  eyes  ?  She  could  not  think,  but  it 
seemed  a  comfort  to  have  it  near  her.  It 
was  almost  a  small  part  of  Ike. 

After  a  half  hour  of  steady,  hard  work, 
she  succeeded  in  wearing  out  upon  a 
sharp  jutting  log,  the  stout  cord  that 
bound  her  hands  together.  Then  with 
red,  trembling  fingers,  she  untied  the 

307 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

knots  in  the  red  silk  handkerchief  and 
spread  it  out  upon  her  lap.  Something 
was  tied  up  in  one  corner.  She  won 
dered  what  Ike  could  have  placed  there. 

-  Perhaps  some  money.  Ought  she 
to  open  it  ? 

She  hesitated  for  a  time,  alternately 
looking  at  it  and  then  jumping  up  to  see 
if  any  one  was  coming  to  her  rescue. 
What  if  she  could  not  make  herself  heard 
if  some  one  did  pass  that  way  ?  The 
thought  was  horrible.  She  began  to  feel 
as  she  remembered  to  have  felt  in  some 
dream  or  nightmare,  long  past,  when  in 
the  grasp  of  some  terrible  danger  she  had 
tried  to  call  out  but  could  not  make  a 
sound.  Then  she  tried  her  voice  to 
make  sure  that  she  could  use  it,  and  the 
sound  of  it  startled  her.  She  became 
more  nervous  each  moment  and  finally, 
just  to  give  herself  something  to  do,  she 
untied  the  knot  in  the  corner  of  the 
handkerchief  and  looked  to  see  what  Ike 
had  fastened  in  it. 

A  bit  of  torn  paper,  carefully  folded  to 
make  it  small  and  compact,  was  what 

308 


A    QUEER    KIDNAPPING. 


met  her  gaze.  She  opened  it  carefully, 
and  there  scrawled  in  what  looked  like 
His  Highness's  hand-writing  was  this 
message :  - 

"  I  will  come  for  you  before  dark.  I  am 
sure  that  you  will  have  come  to  my  way  of 
thinking  by  then.  y  ,, 

Then  it  was  that  all  hope  fled,  and  in 
her  despair  only  death  seemed  gracious. 


309 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

RESCUED     BY     HER     CAPTOR. 

,ONG  before  dark  came  the 
quick  beats  of  a  horse's  hoofs, 
and  then  a  man  stopped  before 
the  old  cabin  and  at  once 
unbarred  the  door,  but  the  almost  insen 
sible  girl  huddled  in  one  corner  did  not 
hear  or  care. 

Howell  raised  her  tenderly  in  his  arms 
and  cursed  himself  for  not  coming  sooner. 
He  thought  at  first  that  she  was  uncon 
scious,  but  she  pulled  herself  away  from 
him  and  sank  down  once  more  into 
the  corner  like  some  wretched,  abused 
animal. 

"You  didn't  need  —  to  bother,"  she 
said,  her  lips  blue  from  the  cold. 

"  My  God,  to  think  I've  let  you  come 
to  this  !  '  He  was  half-crazed  by  the 
sight  of  her  suffering,  and  taking  her  up 

310 


RESCUED   BY   HER    CAPTOR. 

in  his  arms,  talked  frantically  for  a  while. 
But  she  only  half  understood,  her  soul 
being  elsewhere,  seemingly. 

Finally,  after  much  coaxing  and  some 
forcing,  Howell  managed  to  get  her  to 
swallow  some  whiskey.  It  warmed  and 
partially  revived  her.  Then  he  made 
her  understand  that  one  of  the  "  gang  " 
had  disagreed  with  His  Highness  in  re 
gard  to  payment  for  the  work,  and  had 
brought  the  news  to  him.  He  grew 
eloquent,  and  told  her  how  much  he 
loved  her,  how  miserable  life  was  with 
out  her,  and  much  else,  as  he  helped 
her  upon  his  horse,  and  leading  it,  walked 
rapidly  down  to  the  ranch.  There  'was 
a  slight  chance  that  His  Highness  or 
Jerry  might  find  this  out.  He  thought 
best  to  make  haste,  and  his  judgment  was 
not  at  fault. 

The  jolting  of  the  large  horse  did 
more  to  bring  Marjie  to  herself  than 
anything  else.  Just  before  they  reached 
the  ranch,  she  looked  down  and  said  in 
something  of  her  old  manner :  "  I  sup 
pose  you  want  me  to  marry  you,  and 

311 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

perhaps  I  should,  since  you  have  saved 
me  from  —  this.  Well,  all  right.  I 
have  no  love  to  give  you.  You  deserve 
to  be  loved  rightly,  but  if  you  want  to 
take  chances  with  me,  why  I'll  marry 
you.  Only  it  would  better  be  at  once, 
for  I  am  apt  to  change  my  mind."  In 
this  way  did  Marjie  consent. 

Howell  tried  to  induce  the  girl  to  rest 
that  night  at  the  ranch,  but  she  refused 
absolutely,  saying :  "  No,  I  go  back  to 
Kitty  to-night.  To-morrow  you  can 
take  me  to  town  and  have  this  thing  over 
with.  Probably  I  am  doing  wrong  in 
marrying  you,  but  you  say  that  you  are 
too  miserable  to  live,  anyway,  so  it  can't 
make  much  difference  to  you." 

It  was  quite  late,  so  Howell  lost  no 
time  in  hitching  up  a  team  to  a  light 
buggy  and  they  were  soon  speeding  down 
out  of  the  mountains  to  the  ranch  on 
the  prairie,  which  they  reached  late  in 
the  evening  to  the  intense  surprise  of 
Kitty  and  Tom  Howell.  Marjie  wasted 
few  words  in  her  explanation  of  their 
sudden  appearance,  and  concluded  :  "  We 

312 


RESCUED    BY    HER    CAPTOR. 


are  going  to  town  to  be  married.  That 
is  all." 

Kitty  was  at  first  incredulous,  then 
hysterical,  and  for  a  time  her  talk  to 
Marjie  was  quite  incoherent. 

The  weary  girl  was  the  only  contained 
one  among  them.  When  she  removed 
her  wraps  she  wrent  into  the  bedroom  to 
look  at  the  sleeping  children.  Kitty 
followed  her,  still  weeping,  and  the  girl 
quietly  drew  her  into  her  own  room, 
closing  the  door  that  she  might  not 
waken  the  little  ones. 

"  I'm  all  right  now,  Marjie,  but  I 
never  will  get  over  the  shock,  —  never  !  " 
said  the  little  woman,  rocking  herself 
vigorously  backward  and  forward  in  the 
small  rocker.  "  I  can't  understand  it ! 
Why  did  you  do  it  ? " 

Marjie  with  stiff  fingers  was  unlacing 
her  shoes  and  giving  short  answers  to  her 
sister's  frantic  questioning.  She  was  nearly 
undressed  before  Kitty  noticed  what  she 
was  doing.  "  Why,  you  are  not  going  to 
bed  without  your  supper,  are  you  ?  What 
in  the  world  is  the  matter  with  you  ? 

313 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

Marjie,  I   know  something  is  wrong  !  - 
I     know    it !  —  I     believe    you    are    not 
right  !  " 

Marjie's  strange  manner  quieted  her 
instantly.  "  I  am  not  hungry.  I  don't 
want  to  eat,  —  not  anything  ;  —  only  to 
rest  and  rest  a  little  while,"  said  the 
girl  softly.  Kitty  became  thoroughly 
frightened. 

"  Margaret  Navarre,  something  has 
happened  to  you  !  I  am  never  going  to 
consent  to  this  thing  until  you  are  your 
self  again,  —  never  !  You  shall  not  marry 
the  man  !  You  can  not !  "  Kitty  in 
sisted. 

"  Your     own     brother-in-law,     Kitty. 

-  Why  not  ? "  asked  Marjie  wearily. 
"  There  is  nothing  in  the  law  to  prevent 
it.  He  has  had  a  proper  divorce." 

"  No  divorce  is  proper  !  "  exclaimed 
her  sister.  "  If  you  were  in  your  right 
mind  you  wouldn't  think  of  it.  It  is 
disgraceful !  He  is  old  enough  to  be 
your  father,  —  and  you  don't  love  him, 
either  !  " 

"  No,"   agreed    Marjie,   "  I   don't    love 

314 


RESCUED    BY    HER    CAPTOR. 

him,  poor  man  ;  but  I  believe  he  loves 
me.  You  will  go  to  town  with  us,  won't 
you,  dear  ?  And  wake  me  real  early, 
please."  She  slipped  into  her  white  bed 
without  saying  her  prayers,  which  im 
pressed  Kitty  more  than  ever  that  some 
thing  was  wrong  with  Marjie.  She 
hurried  out  to  the  kitchen  to  prepare 
some  tea,  and  when  she  returned  with  it, 
the  tired  girl  was  deep  in  sleep,  —  the 
sleep  of  exhaustion. 

In  the  morning,  Kitty  was  more  than 
ever  convinced  that  something  was  wrong, 
though  to  be  sure  Marjie  felt  better 
and  tried  to  affect  a  certain  brightness 
which  her  colorless  face  and  dull  eyes 
made  indescribably  pitiful  to  behold. 
Kitty  was  assisting  her  with  the  finishing 
touches  of  her  impromptu  wedding  toilet, 
when  she  suddenly  exclaimed  :  "  Marjie, 
what  is  the  matter  with  your  wrists  ? " 

"  My  wrists  ?  I  hadn't  noticed.  The 
wind  is  very  cutting  ;  I  must  have  forgot 
ten  my  gloves."  But  Kitty  was  not 
satisfied,  though  in  the  excitement  of 
seeing  her  off  she  forgot  the  circum- 

315 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

stance.  The  little  woman  had  wept  all 
night,  and  in  the  morning  was  quite  too 
ill  to  take  the  journey  into  town.  But 
Torn  went  with  them  and  saw  them 
married. 


316 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

RECKLESS     RIDE      AND      THE    STORY    OF 
THE    DAY. 

ERRY  had  been  riding  all  day. 
Late  in  the  afternoon  he  ap 
proached  the  Winter  ranch 
from  a  northerly  direction, 
and  acting  upon  a  sudden  impulse,  rode 
up  to  the  house  to  see  if  Marjie  was  still 
there.  If  she  had  not  returned  to  the 
ranch,  he  thought  his  chances  very  favor 
able  that  he  would  get  to  talk  with 
Taggie,  —  for  Marjie  was  a  great  mana 
ger. 

It  was  Taggie  who  ran  out  to  meet 
him  when  he  rode  up  to  the  cabin. 
"  What  have  you  done  with  Marjie  ?  " 
she  demanded. 

"  Marjie  ?     Ain't  she  here  ?  " 
"  No,  she  didn't  come.      I've  been  look 
ing  for  her  all  day,  an'  I'm  terribly  wor- 

317 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

ried.  I  walked  half  way  down  there  a 
little  while  ago,  —  an',  Jerry,  I'm  scared 
to  death !  I  found  this  on  the  road." 
She  took  from  her  pocket  a  much  bruised 
and  crushed  mask.  "  I  haven't  showed 
it  to  anybody,  but  I've  just  been  crazy 
for  you  to  come  so's  you  could  explain  it 
to  me." 

He  took  it  from  her  outstretched  hand 
and  looked  at  it  closely,  then  demanded 
sharply:  "  Where  did  you  find  this?" 

"  Up  in  the  gulch  where  there's  an 
opening  in  the  brush.  It  was  half  mired 
down  in  a  horse's  track.  I  got  so  scared 
I  didn't  go  any  further." 

"  I'm  going  to  look  this  thing  up," 
said  Jerry,  turning  his  horse  quickly 
about.  "  I'll  be  back  after  a  while." 

His  manner  frightened  the  girl,  and  a 
strange  foreboding  grew  in  her  heart. 

"  This  is  one  of  the  Cory  boys'  masks," 
said  Jerry  half  aloud.  "  I'm  just  goin'  to 
find  out  what  they're  doing  up  here. 
This  is  a  little  out  of  their  trail."  The 
young  man  closed  his  lips  firmly  and 
pushed  on.  When  he  reached  the  small, 

318 


A    RECKLESS    RIDE. 


open  space  in  the  brush,  he  found  the 
place  where  Taggie  had  extracted  the 
mask,  —  and  he  found  more  ;  —  he 
found  the  hoof  marks  of  several  horses 
and  the  track  of  men's  boots  in  the  soft 
earth.  A  short  distance  farther  on,  in 
the  thickest  of  the  brush,  he  found 
Marjie's  cap,  and  a  small,  filmy  handker 
chief. 

For  a  time  he  was  overcome  with  fear. 
He  was  panic  stricken.  Scarcely  realiz 
ing  what  he  was  about  he  raced  his  horse 
madly  to  Howell's  ranch.  When  he 
reached  there  no  one  was  about,  not  even 
the  cook.  There  was  no  sign  of  Marjie 
anywhere  about  the  house,  although  some 
of  her  belongings  were  scattered  in  her 
room.  He  waited  there  a  short  time, 
almost  maddened  by  the  thought  that 
something  had  happened  to  her.  Then 
unable  to  endure  it  longer  he  mounted 
his  horse  and  rode  recklessly  up  the  road 
toward  the  Retreat. 

Near  the  old  cabin  he  met  Kid  Cory 
riding  leisurely  along  the  road.  Kid 
would  have  passed  without  a  word,  but 

319 


MARJIE   OF    THE   LOWER    RANCH. 

Jerry  rode  up  in  front  of  him,  and  with 
an  oath  told  him  to  stop. 

"  Don't  get  on  the  prod,  Jerry,"  he 
sneered.  "  What's  the  matter  ? 

"  Yes,  that's  what  /  want  to  know  ! 
What  is  the  matter  ?  What's  happened  to 
that  girl  ? "  Jerry  demanded. 

"  Well,  it's  His  Highness,  not  you  that 
ought  to  git  on  his  high-horse  about 
that.  Keep  your  shirt  on  !  "  Kid  had 
watched  Howell  and  Marjie  ride  away 
from  the  ranch  not  an  hour  before,  and 
in  the  absence  of  his  "  chief"  felt  secure 
in  saying  what  he  liked.  He  went  on : 
—  "  I'll  tell  you  all  I  know  if  you  git 
away  from  the  front  of  my  horse.  I 
went  away  last  night  so  I  wasn't  consulted 
on  this  here  deal.  I'd  never  'a'  done  it, 
because  I've  kind  of  had  my  eye  on  that 
girl  myself,  and  if  I'd  ever  had  a  chance, 
you  bet  His  Highness  wouldn't  'a'  been  in 
it  !  But  I  wouldn't  'a'  given  Howell  that 
much  chance,  even  if  it  was  to  spite  His 
Highness.  Anyway,  I  wasn't  consulted 
The  boys  has  been  tellin'  me  about  it 
and  this  is  all  I  know.  —  Howell  offered 

820 


A    RECKLESS    RIDE. 


'em  five  hundred  apiece  to  kidnap  her 
when  she  went  out  riding.  It  was  fixed 
up  to  look  like  it  was  His  Highness's  work. 
They  put  her  in  some  place  or  another, 
or  tied  her  up,  blamed  if  I  know  which, 
an'  then  they  left  proof  enough  around 
to  make  her  think  it  was  done  for  His 
Highness.  Then  HowelFs  plan  was 
to  come  to  her  rescue  about  —  dark, 
an'  win  her  for  hisself  through  his  all- 
fired  heroic  act.  Better  tell  His  Highness 
that  they've  got  her  cached  somewheres, 
—  I  don't  know  where.  The  boys 
wouldn't  tell  because  I  wasn't  in  on  it. 
Well,  I  wouldn't  'a'  done  it  for  no  five 
hundred,  I  can  tell  a  feller  that !  For 
I  consider  the  girl  worth  more  than 
that  !  " 

But  Jerry  did  not  wait  to  hear  the  last 
of  Kid's  talk.  He  had  heard  enough. 
His  one  thought  was  to  place  it  all  in 
Ike's  hands,  and  to  do  his  bidding.  It 
did  not  take  him  long  to  find  his  friend, 
who  was  moving  about  the  cabin,  prepar 
ing  a  camp  supper.  He  looked  up  with 
surprise  as  Jerry  entered,  and  seeing  great 

321 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

trouble  upon  the  boy's  face,  asked   quick 
ly  :   "  What's  happened  ?  " 

Jerry  burst  forth  in  sorrow,  still  more 
than  in  anger,  and  in  a  voice  broken  by 
deep  emotion  told  all  that  he  knew  of 
the  infamous  plot  that  was  planned  to 
wreck  the  life  and  happiness  of  one  de 
fenceless  girl.  As  he  continued  with  the 
few  details  of  the  vile  scheme,  he  was 
carried  away,  and  yielded  more  and  more 
to  the  emotion  which  he  made  no  effort 
to  conceal,  —  nor  could  he  have  con 
cealed  it  had  he  so  desired. 

Through  the  influence  of  the  dreadful 
news,  Ike  had  fallen  for  an  instant  into  a 
sort  of  frenzy  and  mental  distraction. 
Rushing  outside  he  secured  his  horse 
which  was  grazing  near,  and  without 
waiting  to  saddle  it,  rode  at  a  reckless 
pace  down  the  rocky  canyon,  regardless 
that  one  misstep  of  the  animal  might  mean 
death  to  both.  The  vile  plot  of  these 
ruffians  had  eaten  into  his  soul.  Yet 
the  wrong  done  to  him  seemed  infinitely 
small  compared  to  the  misery  that  Marjie 
might  now  be  undergoing.  To  reach 

322 


A    RECKLESS    RIDE. 


her  quickly,  to  free  her,  perhaps  to  touch 
her  just  once  and  look  again  into  those 
eyes  that  told  so  much,  seemed  to  him 
a  greater  blessing  than  he  had  ever  hoped 
to  possess. 

When  he  neared  the  old  cabin  he 
rode  rapidly  with  head  low,  scanning  the 
ground  as  he  went.  He  passed  the  tracks 
made  by  Jerry's  and  Kid  Cory's  horses, 
and  saw  with  one  glance  how  Jerry  had 
ridden  up  in  front  of  the  man  to  stop 
him. 

Ike  knew  the  hoof  track  of  every 
horse  in  the  country.  In  ten  years  of 
comparative  idleness  he  had  learned  much. 
He  stopped  abruptly  beside  the  old  cabin. 
There  upon  the  soft  earth  were  the  foot 
prints  of  Marjie's  bay  horse !  There 
could  be  no  mistake.  He  got  down 
upon  his  hands  and  knees  and  followed 
the  tracks  almost  to  the  door.  There 
the  tracks  of  several  other  horses  obliter 
ated  them.  But  she  had  been  there. 
He  threw  open  the  door  and  entered  the 
dark  cabin.  At  first  nothing  but  the 
bare  emptiness  of  the  room  met  his  sight. 

323 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

He  stood  for  a  moment  as  though  par 
alyzed.  Then  he  recovered  himself, 
and  with  minute  carefulness  examined 
every  portion  of  the  interior.  The  whole 
story  was  written  there,  and  told  itself 
with  all  its  pitifulness  to  his  discerning 
eyes. 

The  strong  string  upon  the  floor  worn 
in  two  by  friction  upon  the  projecting 
log  above  it,  the  handkerchief  that  she 
had  given  him,  and  the  lying,  counterfeit 
note  beside  it,  the  many  tracks  her  feet 
had  made  as  she  walked  like  a  caged 
creature  about  the  room ;  and  there  in 
one  corner  was  a  spot  brushed  clean 
where  surely  she  must  have  lain  cuddled. 
Then  lastly  Howell's  tracks.  That  was 
all,  but  it  told  him  the  whole  wretched 
story. 

There  was  nothing  more  to  learn. 
Howell's  plot  had  succeeded.  Marjie 
had  been  rescued  by  her  captor.  Half- 
dazed,  he  mounted  his  horse  and  turned 
its  head  homeward.  He  was  living  with 
out  hope,  without  a  morrow,  in  a 
darkness  without  a  ray  of  happiness. 

324 


A    RECKLESS    RIDE. 


Benumbed,  he  did  not  try  to  find  an 
exit.  There  was  but  one  for  him.  Per 
haps  now  in  the  first  shock  of  his  grief, 
the  sharpest  misery  had  not  come  to 
him. 


825 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

JERRY    TURNS    INFORMER. 

O  think  she'd  go  off  an' 
marry  that  man,"  said  Tag- 
gie.  "  Why,  last  summer 
he  had  that  fat  woman  for 
his  wife  !  An'  to  think  she'd  go  an'  do 
it  an'  never  say  a  word  to  me  about  it,  — 
not  a  word !  I  just  bet  he  made  her 
marry  him  !  —  Why,  last  winter  after  he 
got  his  divorce,  she  refused  him  point- 
blank,  an'  told  him  never  to  mention  it 
to  her  again.  I  heard  it !  —  and  now  to 
think  she'd  do  this ! "  It  was  early 
morning  of  the  day  after  Marjie  left  the 
mountains  so  abruptly,  —  the  day  she 
married  Howell.  Taggie  was  standing 
with  Jerry  at  her  father's  fence.  During 
the  previous  summer  it  had  been  the 
young  girl's  duty  to  bring  in  the  cows. 
It  had  been  her  habit  to  go  to  the 

326 


JERRY   TURNS    INFORMER. 

boundary  fence  for  them.  The  cows 
were  not  always  there,  but  Jerry  was, 
generally.  This  morning  she  rode  out 
at  daybreak  in  hopes  that  Jerry  might  be 
there  to  give  her  more  news  of  Marjie, 
the  rumor  of  whose  adventure  had  reached 
her. 

The  boy  was  there  before  her,  waiting 
to  pour  his  own  sorrow  into  the  ears  of 
the  girl  whose  friendship  and  sympathy 
had  become  so  dear  to  him.  "  There's 
no  use  worryin'  about  spilt  milk,"  he 
said  softly.  "  It's  done,  an'  that's  all 
there  is  to  it." 

"  But  I  just  bet  he  made  her,"  ex 
claimed  the  girl  between  her  sobs.  "  I'd 
just  like  to  murder  him  !  " 

"  Murderin's  a  strong  name  for  it," 
spoke  up  Jerry,  "  but  I'd  like  to  take  a 
good  shot  at  him  !  " 

"  Why,  you  feel  just  like  I  do  about 
it,  Jerry,"  exclaimed  the  girl,  brighten 
ing  at  once.  "  I  bet  anything  you  think 
that  he  made  her  marry  him !  Now 
don't  you  ?  I  know  she  liked  that  big, 
black  friend  of  yours.  I  wasn't  with  her 

327 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

all  winter  and  all  last  summer  an'  not 
know  that !  But  you're  so  close-mouthed 
I  can't  get  a  thing  out  of  you  !  You 
wouldn't  even  tell  me  who  owned  that 
black  mask  I  found  down  in  the  gulch. 
Maybe  you  think  I'm  a  tattle-tale  like 
some  girls.  Well,  you  can  think  what 
you  like,  but  I  ain't  agoin'  to  come  out 
here  after  the  cows  any  more,  —  an'  I 
ain't  agoin'  to  meet  you  anywheres!  I'm 
never  going  to  speak  to  you  again,  Jerry 
Hendricks  !  If  you  can't  trust  me,  that's 
the  end  of  it  !  " 

She  turned  around  suddenly  and  started 
away.  The  boy  made  one  stride  and 
caught  her  firmly.  "  You  ain't  agoin'  to 
do  nothin'  of  the  kind!"  he  exclaimed. 

"Let  go  of  me!  I  am  too!  —  An' 
you  can  have  back  your  candy  heart 
an'  -  -."  Here  Taggie  broke  away  from 
her  captor  and  made  a  dash  with  one 
hand  suspiciously  like  the  brushing  away 
of  a  tear. 

"  I'll  take  it  back  if  you'll  give  me  the 
kisses  I  gave  with  it !  "  he  said  boldly, 
again  taking  her  by  the  arm. 

828 


JERRY   TURNS    INFORMER. 

She  blushed  furiously,  and  making  a 
weak  effort  to  clear  herself,  declared : 
"  Well,  I  like  your  nerve !  You  ain't 
much  of  a  gentleman  to  talk  like  that  to 
me  !  Now,  are  you  ?  "  and  she  gave  him 
a  glance  that  aroused  all  the  gallantry,  all 
the  courage  in  Jerry's  soul.  "  I  don't 
reckon  I  am,"  said  the  boy  gently,  still 
detaining  her.  "  But  I  couldn't  live  an' 
have  you  mad  at  me,  an'  somehow  or 
another  I  just  couldn't  help  sayin'  that  to 
you, —  I've  thought  it  so  much.  You 
used  to  kiss  me  when  you  were  a  little 
tad,  an'  it  always  seems  to  me  you  ought 
to  now,  because  I  want  them  more. 
You're  the  only  person  in  the  world  that 
ever  kissed  me,  Taggie  !  —  I  ain't  nobody, 
an'  I  ain't  got  anything  on  earth  but  my 
two  hands  and  —  a  true  heart,  but  I  can 
work  an'  make  something  of  myself,  if 
you  care, —  if  you  won't  ever  get  mad  at 
me."  He  took  his  hand  from  her  arm. 
"  I  ain't  agoin'  to  keep  you  against  your 
will." 

.  She  walked  away  a  few  steps  with  bent 
head,  then  stopped  and  stood  still  while 

329 


MARJIE    OF   THE   LOWER    RANCH. 

Jerry  continued:  "I'd  tell  you  every 
thing  that  I  know  for  I  trust  you.  I'm 
agoin'  away  to  work  somewheres  an' 
when  I  get  to  amount  to  something,  I'm 
coming  back  again  to  see  if  you  won't 
give  those  kisses  back  to  me." 

She  turned  about  shyly  and  looked  at 
him  with  brilliant  eyes,  then  with  cheeks 
burning,  said  timidly,  yet  with  homely, 
honest  ardor  :  "  But  you  might  be  gone 
such  a  terrible  long  time, —  an'  you  might 
meet  some  other  girl, —  and  —  I  don't 
want  to  take  such  chances,  Jerry  !  " 

Just  what  was  Jerry's  verbal  reply  may 
not  be  known,  but  certain  it  is  that  the 
hazard  intimated  by  the  girl  was  forever 
obliterated,  and  that  never  before  had  the 
two  young  souls  been  brought  so  perma 
nently  and  so  nearly  together.  A  few  fer 
vent  kisses  with  a  mutually  affectionate 
embrace  sealed  the  compact. 

Then,  as  though  inspired  by  the  con 
trast  between  his  own  happy  betrothal 
and  the  wretched  experience  of  Marjie, 
Jerry  rehearsed  to  the  wondering,  indig 
nant  Taggie  the  means  Howell  had  used 

330 


you   might   meet  sonic   other  girl." 


JERRY   TURNS    INFORMER. 

to  win  her, —  all  that  he  knew  about  the 
whole  affair,  and  all  that  he  had  said  to 
Ike  the  night  Marjie  went  alone  to  the 
Retreat.  Taggie  was  horror  stricken,  and 
moving  away  from  him  exclaimed : 
"  And  do  you  mean  to  say  that  she  don't 
know  a  thing  about  the  mean  trick 
Howell  played  on  her  ?  And  she  thinks 
that  other  fellow's  a  low  down  scamp  ! 
Well,  he's  next  thing  to  it,  if  he  is  your 
friend !  — To  throw  her  over  for  any 
reason  an'  make  her  suffer  like  she  has  ! 
He  don't  deserve  her  !  But  she's  got  to 
know  the  truth,  even  if  she  has  gone  an' 
got  married, —  an'  you've  got  to  tell  her 
because  you  meddled  in  the  first  place  ! 
Yes,  sir,  it's  your  duty  to  go  to  her 
an'  tell  her  the  whole  thing  from  begin 
ning  to  end  !  If  you  won't  do  it,  I 
will  !  " 

"  I've  been  thinkin'  of  it  all  night, 
Taggie,"  said  Jerry,  "  an'  wonderin' what's 
right.  I  wish  I  knew  !  " 

"  Thinkin',"  echoed  Taggie  impa 
tiently.  "  Haven't  I  told  you  ?  Jerry 
Hendricks,  if  you  don't  get  right  on  your 

331 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

horse  this  minute,  and  go  straight  to  that 
poor  girl,  I'll  take  back  everything  I've 
said  to  you,  an'  I'll  marry  the  first  man 
that  comes  along !  "  The  timid  little 
Taggie  no  longer  existed.  There  was 
determination  expressed  in  every  line  of 
her  face,  and  her  erect  little  body  was  an 
inspiration  to  effort  and  achievement. 

Jerry  hesitated  for  a  moment,  ponder 
ing  deeply,  then  he  went  up  to  her,  and 
taking  her  hands  in  his  own,  said  :  "  I'll 
do  it,  Taggie,  because  you  want  me  to,  - 
but  you  mustn't  say  anything  like  that 
again."  She  smiled  sweetly,  and  sure  of 
her  triumph,  confessed  half-coaxingly : 
"  But  you  know  I  didn't  mean  it." 

Several  hours  later  that  day,  Jerry  rode 
into  the  small,  distant  town.  Marjie  was 
there,  but  he  did  not  know  where  to  find 
her,  or  what  excuse  to  make  for  wishing 
to  see  her.  He  was  never  more  per 
plexed  in  all  his  life,  and  did  some  very 
serious  studying  as  he  rode  along.  As  he 
entered  the  town  he  met  one  of  the 
"  gang  "  riding  out. 

"  You'd  better  turn  back,"  exclaimed 

332 


JERRY   TURNS    INFORMER. 

the  fellow  to  Jerry.  "  The  sheriff's  in 
town  to-day,  and  a  couple  of  specials, 
lookin'  up  that  last  train  deal.  It's  a 
little  too  close  for  me !  They've  got 
Kid.  He  came  in  late  last  night,  and 
they  nabbed  him.  He's  given  'em  a  new 
name,  and  swears  he's  a  miner.  I'm  off 
to  tell  the  boys.  Kind  of  excitin'.  Howell 
got  spliced  this  morning,  but  the  girl 
ain't  very  pert  lookin'  fer  a  bride.  Better 
come  along  !  " 

"Not  just  now,"  replied  Jerry,  riding 
on  into  the  town.  He  tied  up  his  horse, 
and  going  direct  to  the  best  hotel,  in 
quired  for  George  Howell.  He  was 
taking  a  desperate  chance  that  Howell 
might  see  him  first,  and  so  prevent  him 
from  speaking  with  Marjie,  but  there 
was  no  alternative,  and  the  news  as  to  the 
sheriff's  presence  was  a  fresh  and  possibly 
a  valuable  resource.  The  clerk  informed 
him  that  Howell  had  just  stepped  out. 
Then  was  Mrs.  Howell  in  ?  The  name 
choked  him.  It  would  do  as  well  if  he 
could  see  her.  Yes,  she  was  in,  the  clerk 
thought,  and  gave  him  the  number  of  the 

333 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

rooms.  With  a  brave  heart,  but  some 
misgivings,  the  boy  went  in  search  of 
her. 

Marjie  herself  opened  the  door  for 
him.  She  drew  back  startled  and  sur 
prised.  He  stood  there  mute,  wondering 
how  he  could  tell  this  strange  Marjie  the 
thing  for  which  he  had  ridden  so  far. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Jerry  ?  Won't  you 
come  in  ?"  she  said  quietly.  He  stood  a 
moment  in  awkward  embarrassment,  then 
gaining  courage,  exclaimed  :  — 

"  I've  got  to  talk  to  you.  There's 
something  you've  got  to  know  !  Where's 
Howell?" 

"  He  is  out  somewhere  attending  to 
some  business,"  she  answered.  "  Won't 
you  sit  down  ? " 

"No,  I  can  talk  better  standin'.  I've 
got  to  talk  quick,  too,  because  it  wouldn't 
do  to  have  Howell  catch  me  here.  He 
might  do  worse  to  you  than  he  did  when 
he  hired  those  fellows  to  kidnap  you  and 
make  you  think  it  was  Ike  !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  she  cried. 
"  Are  you  crazy,  or  what,  to  come  here 

334 


JERRY    TURNS    INFORMER. 

and  add  another  torture  to  my  brain  ?  I 
don't  understand  you.  Go  away  and 
leave  me  to  my  misery,  —  to  the  Hell  I 
have  chosen  !  " 

"  But  I've  got  to  tell  you,"  said  the 
boy  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  "  There  ain't 
no  other  way  around  it.  But  it  can't 
make  you  feel  any  worse  to  know  that 
it  was  Howell,  not  Ike,  that  played  that 
dirty  trick  on  you.  It  can't  make  you 
feel  any  worse  to  know  that  Howell's 
the  villain  an'  Ike's  the  best  man  in  the 
world  ! 

"  Tell  me,"  she  gasped,  at  the  same 
time  taking  a  strong  grip  on  her  emo 
tion  that  enabled  her  to  listen  calmly. 

"  The  first  thing  to  tell  you  is  how  I 
rounded  Ike  up  that  night  he  took  you 
home  from  the  Retreat.  I  told  him  how 
he  was  about  to  wreck  your  life.  That 
you  couldn't  marry  an  outlaw,  —  that 
you'd  die  a  worryin'  about  him  hiding 
there.  I  raved  like  a  crazy  fool,  an'  he 
got  up  an'  swore  that  he  wouldn't  make 
love  to  you  any  more  if  it  broke  your 
heart  and  ate  out  his  soul.  But  if  he 

335 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

wasn't  broken  hearted,  no  man  ever  was  ! 
He  must  'a'  wanted  to  make  you  believe 
that  he  wasn't  much  good,  for  there, 
nights,  he'd  rave  in  his  sleep  till  I'd  get 
up  an'  get  out  of  the  cabin.  He'd  walk 
the  floor  night  after  night,  an'  he'd  kiss 
that  handkerchief  that  you'd  tied  round 
his  shoulder,  an'  that  note  you'd  written, 
till  I  thought  he  was  plumb  locoed. 
Then,  too,  that  other  night  when  you 
come  back  to  the  mountains  he  acted 
like  a  ravin'  maniac  when  I  come  home. 
Yesterday  afternoon  when  they  had  you 
cached  in  the  old  cabin,  I  went  to  Tag- 
gie's,  and  found  you  hadn't  been  there, 
so  I  went  to  look  you  up.  I  saw  where 
they'd  held  you  up,  an'  I  found  your  cap 
and  handkerchief.  Ike's  got  'em  now, 
an'  he  don't  do  a  thing  but  just  set  an' 
look  at  them.  Then  after  I  found  your 
things  and  got  scared,  I  saw  one  of  the 
gang  who  was  sore  on  Howell,  an'  he 
told  me  something  about  it.  So  I  rode 
like  lightning  to  tell  Ike.  He  was  like 
a  mad-man  when  I  told  him,  and  he 
jumped  on  his  horse  and  went  to  find 

336 


JERRY   TURNS    INFORMER. 

you  and  set  you  free,  but  you  had  gone. 
It's  just  like  this :  Howell  had  you  cap 
tured,  an'  then  he  went  an'  set  you  loose 
and  made  a  great  man  of  himself,  and 
made  you  hate  Ike." 

At  this  the  girl  dropped  upon  her 
knees  beside  a  chair,  and  with  her  face 
buried  in  her  hands  listened  as  the  boy 
went  on  with  his  disclosure.  When  he 
ceased  speaking  she  looked  up,  her  face 
transfigured  with  a  great  joy. 

"  Then  he  loves  me !  "  she  repeated  to 
herself.  "  He  loves  me  !  "  as  if  all  her 
world  was  contained  in  those  few  words, 
as  indeed  it  was. 

"  I've  got  to  get  out  before  Howell 
sees  me,"  said  Jerry,  his  hand  upon  the 
door. 

"  Wait,"  she  exclaimed,  standing  beside 
him.  "  I  must  think  a  moment.  Don't 
leave  me  alone  with  this  man  !  I  would 
kill  him  just  now  !  —  Wait  until  I  think  ! 
I  must  get  away  from  here.  Hark  !  — 
He  is  coming  now  !  Pretend  something  ! 
Anything, —  pretend  you've  brought  me 
a  word  from  Taggie.  He  might  kill  you 

337 


MARJIE  OF  THE  LOWER  RANCH. 

if  he  knew  !  As  soon  as  you've  gone  I 
will  go  away."  She  spoke  rapidly  in  her 
intense  excitement.  "  Yes,  it  is  he  !  Now 
pretend  !  " 

Before  Howell  opened  the  door,  Mar- 
jie,  with  a  violent  effort,  pulled  herself 
together.  She  greeted  the  man  with  a 
faint  smile  when  he  entered. 

"  Here  is  Jerry,"  she  said.  Then, 
turning  to  the  boy,  "  I  am  so  sorry  that 
you  are  in  such  a  hurry.  Give  my  best 
love  to  Taggie,  and  tell  her  that  I  may 
be  coming  out  there  in  a  few  days.  It 
was  good  of  you  to  give  me  her  message!" 

"  What  are  you  doing  in  town,  Jerry  ?  " 
asked  Howell. 

"  Oh,  I've  come  to  spend  my  money," 
and  Jerry  smiled  suggestively.  "  Gettin' 
too  rich  nowadays.  Besides,  there's  a  fel 
low  got  into  a  little  trouble  here  in  town, 
an'  I  thought  mebbe  I  could  help  him 
out  !  " 

"  You'd  better  keep  out  of  it  an'  go 
home,"  said  Howell  gruffly. 

"  Well,  mebbe  I'd  better,"  said  Jerry, 
as  though  he  had  unexpectedly  caught  a 

338 


JERRY    TURNS    INFORMER. 

glimpse  of  danger.  "  So  long  !  "  He 
went  out  quickly.  Marjie's  wonderful 
acting  fortified  him  while  it  also  aston 
ished  him.  It  was  perfect.  She  was 
always  quick  to  change  from  one  mood 
to  another.  He  went  away  with  a  lighter 
heart,  for  he  knew  that  his  words  had 
comforted  her ;  and  he  believed  that, 
fortified  by  the  knowledge  she  now  pos 
sessed,  she  would  be  able  to  take  care  of 
herself  under  all  circumstances. 


339 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

TO    THE     MOUNTAINS    AND     HIS     HIGHNESS. 

,OWELL  felt  no  alarm  either  at 
Jerry's  appearance,  or  that  of 
the  special  officers.  Neither 
was  he  particularly  worried 
over  Kid's  arrest.  That  meant  but  a 
few  weeks'  or  months'  imprisonment  for 
Kid,  and  would  probably  make  him  more 
careful  in  the  future.  It  had  happened 
so  before.  But  he  was  somewhat  non 
plussed  at  Marjie's  behavior  since  the  day 
before.  In  his  dreams  he  had  pictured 
the  blissful  happiness  that  would  be  his 
when  he  had  won  her.  But  had  he  won 
her  ?  Since  her  capture  she  was  strangely 
unlike  herself.  He  felt  actually  afraid  of 
her,  so  unlike  herself  had  she  become. 

When  Jerry  left  the  room  she  appeared 
to  be  brighter  than  usual  and  more 
approachable.  "  I  think  that  I  will  go 

340 


TO    THE    MOUNTAINS. 


out  for  a  little  walk  and  get  a  breath  of 
fresh  air,"  she  said  brightly.  "  Jerry  has 
brought  in  a  little  of  the  mountain  ozone, 
and  I  feel  better.  No,  indeed,  don't 
come  with  me.  I  want  to  go  alone. 
You  can  finish  your  business  about  town 
until  I  get  back."  She  appeared  so 
bright  and  cheery  that  no  suspicion 
entered  his  mind,  so  he  watched  her  put 
on  her  hat  and  coat  and  start  out,  caution 
ing  her  not  to  be  gone  too  long  a  time. 

Marjie  was  fairly  well  acquainted  with 
the  small  town,  and  taking  a  roundabout 
way,  went  speedily  to  the  livery-stable, 
the  proprietor  of  which  she  knew.  She 
knew  also  that  pretence  would  be  value 
less  ;  that  it  would  involve  time  and 
explanation,  and  that,  quick  action  was 
imperative.  Luckily  he  was  in  his  office. 
She  told  him  in  few  words  that  she 
wanted  the  fastest  and  strongest  saddle- 
horse  in  the  stable ;  that,  for  a  reason  of 
her  own,  she  was  running  away  from 
Ho  well,  and  coolly  requested  his  assist 
ance. 

The    man    was     convinced     that     her 

341 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

reasons,  whatever  they  were,  were  good 
ones,  and  a  great  pity  arose  in  his  heart 
for  the  white-faced  girl.  He  quickly 
saddled  the  best  animal  that  he  owned, 
and  guiding  Marjie  to  the  back  of  the 
stable  corrals  out  of  sight  of  the  main 
body  of  the  town,  wished  her  God-speed 
and  watched  her  until  she  disappeared 
from  his  sight. 

The  warm  sun  of  the  same  spring  day 
poured  down  upon  the  bowed  head  of  a 
man  sitting  in  the  doorway  of  the  cabin 
in  the  Retreat, —  a  man  deep  in  the  un 
conscious  loneliness  of  despair.  A  pipe, 
rilled  but  unlighted,  lay  beside  him  ;  —  a 
newspaper,  unread,  was  thrown  to  one 
side,  while  with  head  bent  low  he  sat  in 
absolute  silence.  Time  sped  on.  It  was 
all  one  to  the  man  immersed  in  the  infi 
nite  duration  of  utter  hopelessness.  Finally 
he  raised  his  head  and  looked  about  him. 
How  long  had  he  been  there  ?  Hours 
doubtless,  he  thought ;  —  but  what  mat 
tered  it  ?  What  mattered  anything  ? 

He  reached  into   his  pocket,  bringing 

342 


TO    THE    MOUNTAINS. 


out  a  small  bundle  tied  in  a  red  handker 
chief.  He  opened  it  and  spread  the 
contents  out  carefully  before  him.  A 
dainty  square  of  lace  with  an  indescriba 
ble  fragrance  still  clinging  to  it,  a  little 
white  note,  and  a  soft  dark  cap  were  the 
only  treasures  that  he  possessed,  but  to 
him  they  seemed  a  part  of  Margaret 
Navarre.  And  as  men  sometimes  love 
great  treasures,  so  he  loved  these.  After 
a  while  he  folded  them  carefully  in  the 
handkerchief  and  put  them  away.  Then 
it  occurred  to  him  that  he  must  be  hun 
gry.  When  had  he  eaten  ?  Rising  stiffly 
he  entered  the  cabin  and  began  to  pre 
pare  a  rude  meal.  What  had  become 
of  Jerry  that  he  had  not  seen  him  all 
day  ?  He  would  cook  enough  for  two, 
for  surely  the  boy  would  be  back  that 
night. 

A  few  minutes  later  came  the  sound 
of  a  horse  crashing  through  the  brush. 
It  was  Jerry,  of  course.  He  would  try 
to  avoid  driving  the  boy  away  again  by 
his  madness.  It  did  not  occur  to  him 
to  wonder  why  Jerry  had  not  given  the 

343 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

signal ;  in  fact,  he  had  forgotten  for  the 
time  being  that  he  was  an  outlaw,  hunted. 
The  door  opened  noiselessly.  Instinct 
ively  he  looked  up  and  saw  —  Marjie. 
Before  she  spoke  he  thought  that  he  had 
in  reality  gone  mad. 

"  I  have  come  to  you,"  she  said  softly. 
A  great  light  was  in  her  face.  For  the 
moment  he  was  paralyzed,  powerless  to 
move  or  speak.  "  You  must  not  send  me 
away  for  I  am  so  tired,"  she  pleaded,  fear 
taking  possession  of  her.  "  You  must 
not !  I  will  die !  Take  me,  dearest, 
and  let  me  live !  Let  me  live  and  be 
with  you  !  It  is  all  I  ask,  —  all  on  earth 
I  want,  just  happiness  and  you.  You 
cannot  refuse  me  this  !  "  She  held  out 
her  arms  pleadingly,  in  utter  abandon 
ment. 

Then  he  took  her  to  him,  and  the 
force  of  a  vast  love  condensed  within  his 
soul,  broke  bonds  at  last  in  one  great 
torrent,  overwhelming  and  beyond  con 
trol. 


844 


Then   he   took   her  to   him. 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

THE     BEST     HORSE    OF    A    BAD    LOT. 

jOWELL  did  not  see  Marjie 
leave  town,  but  when  an  hour 
or  two  passed  and  she  did  not 
appear,  he  began  to  walk 
frantically  about  the  streets  in  search  of 
her.  He  would  walk  the  length  of  one 
street,  then  hurry  back  to  the  hotel  to  see 
if  she  had  returned  during  his  absence. 
This  he  repeated  several  times.  Finally 
the  suspicion  that  something  was  wrong 
grew  to  a  certainty.  It  was  Jerry's  work  ! 
Where  was  he  ?  He  rushed  excitedly 
from  one  saloon  to  another,  but  Jerry  was 
not  to  be  found. 

Now  that  Marjie  had  escaped  from 
him,  he  was  consumed  with  his  passion 
for  her.  His  one  desire  was  to  find  her 
and  bring  her  back  again. 

Two   men   who    sat    smoking    in    the 

345 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

office  of  the  hotel  watched  him  curiously 
from  the  window.  "  What  in  Hell  is 
up  ? "  asked  inspector  Hill  of  the  county 
sheriff. 

Inspector  Hill  was  one  of  the  posse 
that  was  making  a  desperate  hunt  for 
certain  desperadoes.  He  bore  proudly 
upon  his  vest  a  large  nickle-plated  star 
inscribed  in  bold  letters  "  Stock  Inspector 
and  Detective." 

The  county  sheriff,  renowned  for  many 
terms  of  faithful  service,  leaned  toward 
the  inspector  with  his  hand  upon  his  lat 
knee,  and  whispered  :  "  Between  you  and 
me,  his  actions  are  dang  suspicious  !  We'd 
better  keep  our  eye  on  him.  I've  kind  of 
had  him  spotted  for  awhile  back.  Guess 
he  knows  where  we  can  find  our  men 
all  right  'nough  !  But  he's  got  too  much 
backing  —  public  opinion  all  on  his  side. 
It's  his  money.  Might  raise  a  dang  big  row 
to  pull  him  without  good,  substantial 
proofs.  If  we  could  corner  him,  mebbe  we 
could  scare  him  a  little.  Might  make  him 
show  down  some  cash,  or  else  make  him 
tell  what  we're  after.  I'm  a  little  hard 
up,  myself." 

346 


THE  BEST  HORSE  OF  A  BAD  LOT 

"  Same  here,"  returned  the  stock  inspec 
tor.  "  Look  at  there,  he's  running  into 
the  Bucket  o'  Blood !  Now,  what  in 
thunder  is  the  matter  with  him?" 

"  Let's  get  up  and  walk  over  there," 
suggested  the  sheriff.  "  Mebbe  we  can 
find  out." 

As  the  two  men  crossed  the  street, 
Howell  came  hastily  out  of  the  saloon  and 
hurried  over  to  the  livery  stable.  The 
two  officers  were  not  far  behind,  —  close 
enough  to  hear  him  say  :  "  I  want  the 
best  horse  you've  got,  Morris,  and  I  want 
it  quick  !  '  Morris,  the  stableman  who 
had  assisted  Marjie,  replied  :  "  I  ain't  got 
any  best  horse,  Howell,  but  I've  got  a  few 
poor  ones.  I'll  get  you  a  poor  one. 
Want  it  saddled?" 

"  Yes,  saddled,  and  quick,  too  !  No, 
damn  it,  I  suppose  you  let  out  the  best 
one  about  two  hours  ago  !  Don't  deny 
it !  There's  other  eyes  besides  yours  and 
mine  in  this  town.  Don't  waste  words  ! 
Quick,  now  !  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you're  talkin' 
about,  Howell,  but  as  I  said  before,  I've 

347 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

got  some  poor  horses,  and  you  can  have 
the  best  of  a  bad  lot." 

Howell  was  a  desperate  man,  and  the 
stableman  dared  not  risk  angering  him, 
so  he  quickly  set  about  saddling  a  fine- 
looking  horse  that  was  never  used  except 
for  pleasure  riding  about  the  town,  be 
cause  it  had  the  weakness  of  going  lame 
after  a  few  miles  of  travel.  But  for  those 
few  miles  it  was  everything  that  a  horse 
could  be  desired. 

Howell  gave  the  animal  an  approving 
look  as  it  was  led  out  to  him.  He  knew 
a  good  horse  at  a  glance.  "  What's  the 
matter  with  him?"  he  inquired,  mount 
ing  the  spirited  animal.  The  stableman 
shook  his  head. 

"  Not  much  good,  but  he's  the  best 
I've  got.  Don't  pay  to  keep  good  horses 
for  every  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry  to 
ride  !  " 

Howell  was  off,  satisfied  that  the  stable 
man  did  not  know  a  good  horse  when  he 
saw  one.  In  his  excitement  he  did  not 
notice  the  officers  standing  near,  but 
Morris,  the  stableman,  did.  "  Anything 

348 


THE    BEST    HORSE    OF    A    BAD    LOT. 

I  can  do  for  you,  gentlemen  ?  "  he  in 
quired,  approaching  them. 

"  I  guess  not,"  growled  the  sheriff, 
"  since  you've  given  Howell  the  best 
horse  in  the  stable  !  " 

"  Not  on  your  life,"  laughed  the 
stableman.  "  That  horse  always  goes 
dead  lame  after  the  first  five  miles. 
I've  got  half  a  dozen  better  than  that !  " 

"Then  we'll  take  three,"  said  the 
sheriff,  brightening.  "Hey,  Hill?" 

"  Umph,"  said  Hill,  "  it's  a  Hell  of  a 
long  ways  if  he's  going  to  the  mountains  !  " 

"  I  don't  know  where  he's  goin',  but 
he's  goin'  toward  'em,  as  you  can  see. 
Here's  a  boy  that  can  tell  you  where  he's 
goin',"  said  Morris,  as  Jerry  came  around 
the  corner  of  the  building  and  watched 
Howell  ride  away.  "  Say,  Jerry,  where's 
Howell  goin'  ? " 

"  Howell  ?  "  asked  Jerry  surprisedly, 
and  he  turned  and  looked  at  the  rider 
speeding  away. 

"Yes,  Howell.  Can't  you  see?"  the 
stableman  asked,  pointing  toward  the  man 
growing  dim  in  the  distance. 

349 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

"  Looks  like  he's  going  out  to  the 
ranch,"  answered  Jerry.  He  had  seen 
Marjie  leave  town,  and  believing  that  she 
had  gone  directly  to  her  sister's,  had  felt 
no  further  fear  for  her.  When  she  had 
disappeared,  he  entered  the  stable  and 
applied  for  a  situation.  The  stableman, 
being  short  of  help,  and  knowing  and 
liking  Jerry,  had  readily  given  him  a 
place  in  the  barn.  Jerry  had  now 
begun  his  new  life.  Some  day  soon  he 
would  go  back  to  the  Retreat  and  tell 
Ike  all  that  had  happened,  —  tell  him 
too,  that  he  was  now  doing  what  he 
had  so  desired  him  to  do,  —  taking  his 
place  in  the  world.  And  the  world 
now  did  not  seem  to  be  such  a  terrible 
place. 

"Where  'bouts  is  his  ranch  ?"  inquired 
the  sheriff. 

"  About  forty  miles,  straight  in  that 
direction,"  replied  Jerry,  adding  more 
minute  directions. 

"  How'd  you  come  to  know  that  coun 
try?"  questioned  the  inspector.  "Live 
there?" 

350 


THE   BEST    HORSE    OF   A    BAD    LOT. 

"  No,"  answered  the  boy,  "  I  don't  live 
there  now,  but  I  used  to.  I'm  workin' 
in  the  stable  now."  He  did  not  see  fit 
to  enter  into  further  explanations,  and  the 
men  asked  no  more  questions. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Jerry  had 
ever  been  in  such  startling  proximity  to 
his  aggressive  enemy,  the  officer  of  the 
law,  but  having  donned  his  coat  of 
respectability,  he  felt  secure. 

"  Get  us  three  horses,"  instructed  the 
sheriff.  "  We've  got  another  man  and 
we'll  be  back  in  about  ten  minutes." 

"  Now,  what  in  Sam  Hill's  up  ? "  mut 
tered  the  stableman, as  the  men  disappeared 
around  the  corner.  "  First  Howell  goes 
after  his  wife,  and  now  they  go  after 
Howell  !  I  can  understand  why  Howell 
goes  after  his  wife,  but  I'm  blamed  if  I 
know  why  they're  goin'  after  Howell !  " 

"  Because  they're  such  darn  fools  that 
they  don't  know  he's  goin'  for  his — , 
for  her.  They  think  he's  excited  over 
the  arrests,  an'  they  think  they'll  find 
out  something  if  they  follow  him.  They 
ain't  very  smart,"  said  Jerry  knowingly, 

351 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

as  he  went  about  his  work.  In  his  mind 
he  concluded  that  Howell  would  go  direct 
to  Tom's  place,  where  he  would  find 
Marjie.  But  she,  backed  by  the  presence 
of  her  relatives,  would  refuse  to  have  any 
thing  to  do  with  him,  in  all  probability 
would  not  even  see  him. 

In  this  he  was  partially  right,  insomuch 
as  Howell  did  go  direct  to  his  brother's 
ranch  as  fast  as  his  lamed  horse  would 
carry  him.  He  felt  certain  that  he  would 
find  her  there,  for  in  the  last  saloon  that 
he  had  entered  in  his  search  for  Jerry,  an 
acquaintance  drew  him  to  one  side  and 
informed  him  that  he  had  seen  her  leave 
town.  It  was  then  that  he  rushed  in 
great  haste  to  the  livery  stable.  The  horse 
that  he  rode  was  a  sorry  looking  creature 
by  the  time  it  had  traveled  the  eighteen 
miles  to  Tom  Howell's  place.  But  it 
gave  the  man  much  time  for  contempla 
tion. 

Tom  was  at  the  corral  when  he  rode 
slowly  up. 

"  Why,  hello,  George,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  where's  Marjie  ?  " 

352 


THE    BEST    HORSE    OF    A    BAD    LOT. 

Howell  collected  his  wits  in  time. 
Then  Marjie  was  not  there  !  Good  God, 
where  was  she  ?  His  brain  worked  rap 
idly.  He  made  no  reply  until  he  dis 
mounted. 

"  Had  to  hurry  back  on  business,"  he 
exclaimed.  "  How's  Kitty  feeling  ? ' 

"  Oh,  fairly  well,  but  she'll  be  disap 
pointed  because  Marjie  was  left  in  town. 
Why  didn't  you  bring  her?" 

"Too  much  of  a  hurry,"  answered 
Howell.  "  I've  got  to  go  right  on.  Got 
a  good  horse  that'll  go  over  the  road 
quick  ?  This  one's  gone  lame." 

"Yes,"  said  Tom.  "But  I'm  sorry 
you  didn't  bring  Marjie.  Kitty'll  have 
another  spell.  Here's  one  of  Marjie's 
horses  right  here.  It's  the  best  traveler 
on  the  place." 

"  All  right,  I'll  take  it.  I'm  in  a  rush. 
Some  business  out  there  to  look  after. 
Never  mind,  I'll  saddle  it  myself."  How 
ell  was  off  in  a  hurry.  No  suspicion 
entered  honest  Tom  Howell's  mind. 
But  more  than  a  suspicion  entered  the 
mind  of  the  man  riding  swiftly  toward 

363 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER   RANCH. 

the  mountains.  He  would  not  find  her 
at  his  ranch.  She  had  gone  to  the  man 
she  loved. 

He  cursed  his  luck,  and  Jerry,  and 
everything  else  many  times  over.  Truly 
Jerry  was  at  the  bottom  of  it !  But  he 
would  force  Marjie  to  return  to  him,  if 
he  had  to  kill  His  Highness  before  her 
eyes. 


854 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

WHERE    THEY    FIRST    FOUND    EACH    OTHER. 

!>T  is  growing  dark,"  said 
Marjie.  "  Let  us  walk  down 
to  the  little  stream  and  there 
on  the  embankment  we  will 
watch  the  moon  rise  over  the  big  mount 
ain  as  we  did  that  night  last  summer, — 
when  you  and  I  first  found  each  other. 
Then,  when  we  are  far  away  in  some 
strange  land  we  can  think  it  again,  and 
see  it,  though  we  may  never  behold  it 
with  mortal  eyes." 

And  His  Highness,  blissfully  obedient, 
led  the  way  until  again  they  stood  upon 
the  embankment  with  the  tiny  stream 
foaming  at  their  feet.  Almost  dazed  by 
the  ecstasy  of  their  reunion  and  the  sense 
of  freedom  that  filled  the  place,  they 
stood  in  silent  rapture. 

"  Don't  you   know,  little  girl,   that  I 

356 


MARJIE  OF  THE  LOWER  RANCH. 

cannot  accustom  myself  to  so  much  hap 
piness,"  Ike  said  at  last  in  a  voice  that  was 
full  and  low.  "It  seems  like  a  dream  that 
must  vanish.  I  ask  myself  how  you,  dear 
one,  can  ever  share  an  outlaw's  life  and 
troubles  and  privations.  At  times  I  am 
mad  enough  to  think  that  you  will  be 
happy.  But  I  know  better, —  I  know 
better  !  Yet  God  knows  I  am  happy  ! " 

"  And  I,  too.  I  am  happy,  supremely 
happy,  just  in  the  knowledge  that  you 
love  me, —  that  your  love  always  has  been 
mine  —  and  will  be  always.  I  would  be 
happy  now  even  though  fate  separated  us, 
knowing  always  that  you  love  me.  That 
is  my  whole  life  !  "  Her  words  thrilled 
him  beyond  the  power  of  expression. 
He  kissed  her  hands  again  and  again,  and 
then  her  face. 

"  You  are  sacrificing  yourself.  I  can 
not  blind  myself  to  that.  May  God 
make  me  worthy  of  you  !  I  swear  before 
Him,  here  where  we  stood  so  long  ago, 
that  I  will  love  you  and  cherish  you  and 
be  true  to  you  so  long  as  life  endures  in 
body  or  in  soul !  —  Margaret,  my  love,  if 

356 


WHERE  THEY   FOUND   EACH   OTHER. 

there  was  any  other  way  I  would  not 
accept  this  sacrifice. —  If  I  could  take  you 
to  my  mother, —  though,  God  knows,  she 
may  be  dead;  if  I  could  take  you  to  her, — 
if  I  could  give  you  what  was  once  mine 
to  give, —  an  honorable  name  and  every 
luxury  that  is  yours  by  right, —  I  would 
ask  nothing  more." 

"But  even  so,"  she  said  gently,  "if 
things  were  as  you  wish,  you  could  not 
take  me  to  your  mother  or  into  your 
world.  —  You  could  only  take  me  as  you 
have  now,  —  into  your  heart.  Why  did 
I  do  it,  Ike  ?  I  cannot  call  you  by  that 
name  —  so  new  to  me,  —  Gilbert.  - 
What  made  me  marry  him  ? " 

The  man  trembled  and  turned  pale. 
"  I  never  thought  of  that  in  my  happi 
ness.  I  had  forgotten  it.  Oh,  the  sacri 
fice  is  too  great,  my  Margaret !  " 

"  Hush,"  she  implored,  placing  her 
hand  upon  his  mouth.  "  I  do  not  know 
what  that  word  means." 

A  short  time  later  a  splashing  in  the 
water  near  them  warned  them  that  some 
one  had  entered  the  Retreat.  A  man 


357 


MARJIE   OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

rode  so  near  that  the  bright  moon  re 
vealed  the  form  and  face  of  Howell. 

Terror  seized  Marjie,  making  her 
dumb.  She  threw  her  arms  about  the 
man  beside  her  and  clung  to  him  pite- 
ously. 

"  Put  down  that  gun,  Howell,"  com 
manded  Ike.  "  Would  you  shoot  her  ? 
You  don't  need  to  be  afraid.  You  are 
perfectly  safe.  I  wouldn't  harm  a  hair 
of  your  head,  though  you  deserve  to  be 
hanged !  " 

"  I'm  not  going  to  shoot  unless  you 
refuse  to  hand  her  over  to  me.  I've 
come  for  her."  The  silence  was  awful 
for  an  instant,  then  he  continued :  "  Do 
you  hear,  Marjie  ?  I've  come  for  you ! 
I  guess  the  law  gives  a  man  the  right  to 
his  wife !  Come  along  and  nothing 
more  will  be  said  about  it/' 

She  raised  her  head  slowly  from  His 
Highness's  breast,  yet  still  clinging  to 
him,  and  looked  up  at  Howell.  Then 
her  voice  came  to  her  :  — 

"  There  is  no  law  on  earth  that  will 
compel  me  to  go  with  you  or  to  live 

358 


A   man   sei/ed   Howell   from   behind.' 


WHERE  THEY   FOUND   EACH   OTHER. 

with  you  !  Before  God  I  am  not  your 
wife !  I  have  never  been  your  wife ! 
Do  you  think  a  few  words  uttered  by  a 
pious  man  made  me  your  wife  ?  No  ! 
I  am  still  Margaret  Navarre,  and  I  belong 
to  him.  You  have  done  your  worst ; 
you  may  as  well  leave  me.  I  tell  you 
I  would  kill  myself  before  I  would  live 
with  you  !  You  see,  I  have  this  matter 
in  my  own  hands  !  You  are  powerless  !  " 

"  Well,  you  can  both  die  together  !  " 
exclaimed  Ho  well,  lifting  his  gun.  Be 
fore  it  reached  his  shoulder  it  was 
knocked  violently  from  his  hand  and  fell 
at  Marjie's  feet.  A  man  seized  Howell 
from  behind,  pulling  him  violently  from 
his  horse,  and  a  pair  of  handcuffs  were 
slipped  upon  his  wrists. 

"  Now,  I  guess  we  can  talk,"  said  the 
sheriff  blandly.  "  Hill,  just  keep  that 
other  fellow  covered." 

"  But  I  don't  like  to  point  my  gun  at 
a  lady,"  answered  the  inspector  politely, 
though  doing  as  he  was  bid. 

"  What  does  this  outrage  mean  ? " 
roared  Howell. 

369 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

"  We've  got  you,  that's  all,"  answered 
the  sheriff.  "  We've  had  you  spotted 
for  some  time,  so  you'd  better  come 
along  quietly  and  not  make  any  fuss. 
We'll  have  plenty  of  time  to  talk  it  over 
between  here  and  town.  We  don't  want 
this  other  gentleman,  here,  but  we're 
keeping  him  covered  to  protect  our 
selves.  The  lady'll  look  out  for  him 
when  we  get  you  out  of  here." 

"  You're  making  a  big  mistake,"  ex 
claimed  Howell.  "  Yonder  is  the  man 
you  want  and  not  me.  I  came  here  to 
get  my  wife  away  from  him  !  ' 

"  You  coward  !  "  cried  Ike,  speaking 
for  the  first  time.  "  You  might  have 
spared  her  1  "  The  silence  was  intense 
after  his  rich,  impressive  voice  rang  out. 
Then  the  sheriff  spoke  :  — 

"  Damn  you,  Howell,  you  are  a  coward ! 
And  I  ain't  agoing  to  spare  you  now  !  If 
that  girl  was  a  daughter  of  mine,  I'd 
kill  you  like  a  dog,  you  —  low-lived 
scoundrel !  If  she  talks  true,  she  never 
consented  to  marry  you  of  her  own  free 
will !  " 

360 


WHERE   THEY   FOUND   EACH   OTHER. 

"That  part  is  true  enough,"  said  His 
Highness  quietly.  "  But  have  you  any 
substantial  proofs  to  back  you  in  arrest 
ing  him  ?  I  think  not.  You  may  find 
yourself  in  an  awkward  position  if  you 
do  arrest  him  without  positive  evidence 
against  him.  His  money  will  save  the 
day,  and  you,  gentlemen,  will  find  your 
selves  out  of  a  position.  Think  it  over. 
—  Now  /  haven't  any  money  to  fight 
with,  and  you  might  win  some  rewards 
of  honor  by  capturing  me.  I  am  an 
outlaw  of  ten  years'  standing,  wanted  for 
murder.  I  give  myself  up  to  you,  gen 
tlemen." 

"  No,  no  !  "  screamed  Marjie,  clasping 
him  desperately.  And  dire  silence  reigned 
for  a  time,  broken  only  by  the  girl's  dry 
sobbing.  The  sheriff  and  his  men  moved 
noiselessly  a  few  steps  away  and  consulted 
together. 

"  Don't,  Margaret,"  softly  implored 
Ike.  "  I  cannot  bear  it.  Be  brave,  or  I 
will  be  coward  enough  to  shoot  these 
men  down  like  dogs  and  carry  you  away 
in  my  arms !  Do  not  grieve  !  It  is 

361 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 


better  so.  There  is  no  other  way.  Re 
member  how  I  love  you.  If  I  loved  you 
less,  I  could  not  do  this.  I  will  love  you 
so  until  the  end,  —  always,  God  willing. 
My  Margaret,  be  brave  as  only  you  can 
be  !  "  In  that  way  he  talked  to  her  as 
a  dying  man  might  talk. 

Finally  she  grew  strangely  quiet.  He 
loved  her,  and  he  asked  her  to  be  brave. 
It  was  a  little  thing  to  do  when  he  was 
going  to  his  death  to  save  her  from  the 
wretchedness  of  a  disgraceful  existence. 

"  Be  brave  and  believe  always  in  my 
love,"  he  whispered.  "  My  love,  that 
even  death  cannot  kill !  "  The  calmness 
of  his  own  certain  death  came  over  her. 
Suddenly  she  looked  up  at  him  and 
smiled,  —  a  mere  shadow  of  a  smile. 
She  looked  at  him  so  for  a  moment,  then 
spoke  softly  :  "  May  I  not  come  to  see 
you  before  ?  -  They  will  allow  me  to 
do  so." 

"  No,  no  !  You  must  not,  —  not  there! 
You  must  not  come  within  the  shadow 
of  that.  We  will  part  here,  where  we 
first  found  out  what  it  meant  to  live. 

362 


WHERE  THEY   FOUND  EACH   OTHER. 

Promise  me  that  you  will  not  come 
there.  This  must  be  our  good-by,  little 
girl." 

"  You  know  best.  —  I  will  not  come." 
-The  words  were  scarcely  audible. 
The  men  approached  them. 

"  Let's  see,  what's  your  name  ?  "  asked 
the  sheriff  of  Ike. 

"  I  am  known  here  as  his  His  High 
ness,  or  Ike.  My  name  is  Gilbert  Ar 
mour.  I  am  wanted  for  the  murder  of 
my  step-father,  Morton  Wilson  !  " 

"  But  he  is  innocent !  "  cried  Marjie, 
breaking  away  from  him  and  clasping 
the  sheriff's  arm  frantically.  "  I  know  ! 
You  must  believe  me !  He  is  perfectly 
innocent  !  Fight  for  him  if  it  is  within 
your  power  !  See  that  he  gets  a  proper 
trial !  I  cannot  let  him  die,  knowing 
him  to  be  innocent,  and  you  must  not. 
You  must  believe  what  I  say  !  You  have 
daughters  of  your  own,  and  you  are  kind. 
Give  him  a  fair  chance  if  it  is  within 
your  power  or  your  influence.  Then  I 
will  bless  you  forever  !  " 

"I'll  do  my  best  for  him,  Miss  Navarre, 

363 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER   RANCH. 

-  or  Mrs.  —    ,  no,    I'll  be  danged  if 

I'll  call  her  by  your  name,  Howell.  You 
disgrace  her  !  I  heard  that  you'd  scared 
her  into  marrying  you  this  morning,  and 
that  she  wasn't  any  too  willing.  Oh, 
you  can't  keep  such  things  down  !  Peo 
ple  have  got  eyes  in  their  heads.  I  was 
going  to  look  her  up  to  see  if  it  was  true, 
because  she's  Philip  Navarre's  little  girl." 
Then,  turning  to  her,  he  continued  :  "  I 
used  to  know  your  father  years  ago, 
down  in  a  little  town  in  California.  I 
know  your  sister,  and  I  saw  you  once  in 
town  with  her  sometime  last  year.  You're 
just  like  your  father.  I'd  know  you 
anywhere.  He  used  to  call  you  his 
baby  Margaret.  I  heard  tell  how  you 
went  to  live  at  the  old  place  with  his 
sister  after  he  died.  Many's  the  time 
I've  had  with  him  there  !  Well,  well, 
poor  Philip  Navarre !  —  And  you  can 
bet  I  ain't  going  back  on  his  little  girl  ! 
I'll  be  danged  if  I  do  !  "  A  moment's 
silence,  then  the  old  sheriff  said  kindly 
to  Ike,  "  I  don't  recollect  much  about 
your  case,  though  it  seems  familiar,  —  at 

364 


WHERE  THEY   FOUND   EACH   OTHER. 

least  the  name  does.  But  I  reckon  I've 
got  to  take  you  on  your  own  word, 
though  it's  a  little  out  of  the  ordinary 
method.  We've  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  we'd  better  let  Howell  go  for  this 
time,  —  but  the  law's  got  its  eye  on  him, 
and  he'd  better  look  out." 

"  You'd  better  take  those  handcuffs 
off,  then,"  exclaimed  Howell. 

"  Not  till  you  give  your  word  that 
you'll  leave  this  girl  alone !  "  said  the 
sheriff. 

"  That's  our  private  affair,"  returned 
Howell. 

"  That  may  be,"  said  His  Highness 
quietly,  going  up  to  him,  "  but  I  want 
you  to  promise,  —  no,  not  to  promise, 
but  to  swear  that  you  will  leave  her  for 
ever  in  peace.  —  I  insist.  Kindly  grant 
me  my  request."  His  voice  sounded 
queer,  as  though  beneath  its  calmness 
was  boiling  a  terrible  undercurrent  of 
warning.  "Swear!"  insisted  Ike. 

"  Well,  all  right,  then,  damn  you  !  " 
He  took  the  oath  before  them  all.  Then 
Ike  spoke  again  :  — 

365 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

"  I  have  to  ask  a  favor  of  you,  too, 
sheriff.  Will  you  kindly  sec  that  this 
lady  gets  safely  under  the  protection  of 
her  sister  ?  I  give  you  my  word  that  I 
will  go  quietly  with  your  men." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  responded  the 
kind-hearted  sheriff. 

"  Now,  Howell,  you're  loose,"  he  said 
as  he  removed  the  handcuffs.  "  Miss 
Navarre  and  myself  will  accompany  you 
as  far  as  the  first  ranch  down  here.  I 
reckon  we  can  get  accommodations  for 
the  night."  Then  turning  to  Ike,  - 
"  You  are  a  gentleman,  sir  !  The  boys 
can  stay  here  with  you  to-night,  and 
to-morrow,  early,  push  on  into  town." 

"  I  will  get  your  horse,"  said  Ike  to 
the  white-faced  girl  beside  him.  He 
left  them  quietly.  They  waited  several 
minutes  in  absolute  silence,  then  he  re 
turned  bringing  the  horse. 

"  I've  got  her  own  horse,"  said  Howell 
huskily.  "  Here,  we'll  just  change  sad- 
lies. "  But  Marjie  never  moved.  What 
mattered  it  to  her  what  horse  she  rode  r 
What  mattered  anything  in  the  agony 

366 


WHERE  THEY    FOUND   EACH   OTHER. 

of  this  parting  ?  Ike  came  close  to  her. 
She  did  not  look  up,  but  she  felt  his 
presence. 

"  Well,  we'd  better  move  on,"  said  the 
sheriff,  when  Howell  had  changed  the 
saddles,  but  Marjie  did  not  move.  She 
could  hear  the  splashing  of  the  water  as 
Howell  rode  out  of  the  Retreat,  and  she 
could  feel  that  Ike  stood  near  her.  Then 
he  came  closer.  The  sheriff  turned  his 
back  and  the  other  men  walked  away. 

For  one  moment  he  held  her  close, 
then  went  blindly  away  through  the 
darkness,  while  the  sheriff  lifted  her  upon 
the  horse. 


367 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

ANYWAY,  IT'S  BAD  LUCK  TO  PUT  OFF 
A  WEDDING. 

>ARJIE  went  home  to  Kitty. 
For  a  week  she  was  ill,  very 
ill,  but  brave  withal,  so  that 
with  the  warmth  of  early 
spring  came  the  truant  vitality  back  to 
its  own.  But  no  word  of  Ike  reached 
her.  She  could  not  bring  herself  to  in 
quire  about  him,  for  she  had  not  the 
strength  to  hear  what  she  feared  had 
come  to  pass.  She  had  an  idea  that  the 
arm  of  justice,  or  in  his  case  injustice, 
acted  quickly.  And  in  this  belief  she 
put  off  from  day  to  day  her  inquiries, 
waiting  until  she  should  be  stronger  to 
bear  the  worst.  If  he  could  by  a  mira 
cle  have  been  released,  —  she  argued  to 
herself,  —  surely  the  sheriff  would  have 

368 


BAD  LUCK  TO  PUT  OFF  A  WEDDING. 

come  to  her,  or  Ike,  himself.  Some 
times  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  had 
dreamed  it  all.  Then  she  longed  with 
all  the  intensity  of  her  nature  for  some 
written  word  from  His  Highness  to  re 
assure  her.  It  seemed  strange  to  her 
that  he  had  not  sent  a  farewell  message, 
yet  she  never  found  the  heart  to  make 
inquiries.  Sometime,  when  she  could 
bear  it  better,  she  would  learn  the  details 
of  his  trial  and  possible  death,  —  but  not 
now.  It  seemed  to  her  too  terrible  to 
even  think  about. 

One  morning  two  weeks  later,  a  top 
buggy  approached  the  house,  and  Jerry, 
resplendent  and  smiling  in  new,  well- 
fitting  clothes,  came  quickly  up  to  the 
porch  where  Marjie  was  sitting.  She 
rose  from  her  chair  and  stretched  out 
both  hands  to  him. 

"  Jerry !  I  am  so  glad  to  se&  you ! 
Why,  what  a  man  you  have  grown  to 
be  !  And  how  fine  you  are  !  But  —  still 
you  are  the  same  Jerry.  How  glad  I  am 
you  came !  Sit  down  out  here  in  the 
shade,  and  we  will  talk  before  the  others 

309 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

find  you.  Why,  you  are  a  man,  Jerry  ! 
I  cannot  realize  it !  But  I  suppose  it  is 
the  clothes."  He  seated  himself  in  a 
chair  beside  her. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  suppose  I  must  be 
a  man,  for  I'm  more  than  twenty-one. 
An'  I  hope  I'm  a  man,  because  I'm 
thinkin'  of  getting  married." 

"  Not  married,  Jerry  !  '  exclaimed 
Marjie.  "  What  will  Taggie  say  ?  " 

"  I  guess  she  won't  care.  She's  been 
kind  of  lookin'  for  it  for  a  while  back. 
I  wanted  you  to  know  about  it,  because  I 
wanted  you  to  come  in  to  the  wedding. 
You'll  come,  won't  you  ? " 

"  Why,  yes  ;  I  think  there  is  no  reason 
why  I  should  not  do  so."  Then  sud 
denly,  —  "  I  owe  you  so  much,  Jerry.  — 
But  do  you  know,  I  am  jealous,  for 
Taggie's  sake  ?  I  thought  you  two  cared 
for  each  other.  But  if  it  is  within  my 
power  I  will  go." 

"  Taggie'll  be  mighty  disappointed  if 
you  don't,"  declared  Jerry. 

"  Taggie !  Oh,  Jerry,  I'm  so  glad  ! 
Of  course  it's  Taggie  !  But  the  idea  of 

370 


BAD  LUCK  TO  PUT  OFF  A  WEDDING. 

you  two  getting  married  !      Why  you  are 
only  children  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  But  Taggie's  most  as  old  as  you,— 
an'  we  thought  that  as   long  as  we  were 
going   to   get   married,   that    it    might  as 
well  be  now." 

"  But  I  can't  realize  it,"  Marjie  went 
on.  "  What  put  such  an  idea  into  your 
head  ? ': 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  the  boy. 
"  Those  kind  of  things  just  happen,  I 
reckon.  Then,  since  Ike's  gone  —  I  feel 
like  I  ain't  got  no  home  at  all,  no  matter 
where  I  go.  Taggie's  willin',  so  I  am 
going  up  there  to  see  what  the  old  man 
says  about  it.  I  expect  I'll  have  to  run 
away  with  her." 

Marjie  had  turned  pale  at  the  mention 
of  the  name  she  loved  so  well.  She 
leaned  back  in  her  chair  quietly  for 
awhile,  then  spoke  :  — 

"  Don't  do  it  without  her  father's  con 
sent,  Jerry.  It  wouldn't  be  right." 

"But  if  he  won't  give  it?"  inquired 
the  boy. 

"  Oh, — well  then, — but  ask  him,  Jerry. 

371 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

What  are  you  going  to  do,  and  where  are 
you  going  to  live?"  she  asked. 

"  We  thought  we'd  go  up  an'  live  in 
the  Retreat.  Ike, —  before  he  left," — 
he  said  nervously,  not  knowing  whether 
he  should  speak  to  her  of  him  or  not, 
"  gave  me  some  money  an'  told  me  to 
start  a  bunch  of  cattle  up  there.  I  told 
him  all  about  Taggie  an'  everything,  an' 
he  said  that  he  was  glad,  that  he  felt  better 
about  leaving." 

She  leaned  toward  him  and  asked 
softly :  - 

"  Tell  me,  did  he, —  was  he  contented 
-happy  to  —  go  ?  " 

"  He  seemed  to  be,"  answered  Jerry. 
She  would  have  questioned  him  farther, 
being  at  that  moment  brave  enough  to 
endure  the  shock  of  it  all,  but  Tom  How- 
ell  interrupted  them.  After  a  few  min 
utes  Marjie  withdrew,  and  Jerry  drove 
away  toward  the  mountains  without  seeing 
her  again. 

Early  the  next  day  the  boy  drove 
back.  This  time  he  helped  from  the 
buggy  a  blushing,  sweet-faced  girl,  who 

372 


BAD  LUCK  TO  PUT  OFF  A  WEDDING. 

ran  up  the  path  and  threw  her  arms  about 
Marjie.  Then  she  alternately  laughed 
and  cried  until  Marjie  drew  her  into  the 
house  and  asked  her  to  give  an  account 
of  herself.  This  she  did  with  many 
pauses  and  exclamations. 

"An'  I'm  scared  to  death!  "  she  con 
cluded.  "  If  you  don't  go  to  town 
with  me  I'll  never  have  the  nerve,  — 
never !  " 

"  I  will  go,"  said  Marjie  soothingly. 
"  I  certainly  wouldn't  like  to  have  you  go 
alone,  dear.  Such  a  little  thing  as  you. 
Of  course  I  will  go.  You  must  rest  here 
to-day  and  we  will  go  to  town  in  the 
morning." 

"  But  we've  got  to  go  to-day,"  de 
murred  Taggie  nervously.  "  We  must 
go  to-day. —  Anyway,  it's  bad  luck  to 
put  off  a  wedding." 

"  Oh,  if  you  put  it  that  way,  you 
superstitious  child,  of  course  I've  nothing 
further  to  say.  But  are  you  all  ready  ? 
Isn't  it  rather  sudden  ? " 

"  I  didn't  have  much  to  get  ready," 
she  answered,  then  throwing  herself  face 

873 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

downward  on  Marjie's  bed,  began  to  cry 
as  though  her  heart  would  break. 

Marjie  soothed  her  with  gentle,  tender 
words,  until  the  girl  ceased  crying  and 
exclaimed  :  — 

"  You  make  me  feel  ashamed  of  my 
self!  I  ain't  got  any  great  trouble  like 
you,  either,  an'  nothing  much  to  cry 
about.  —  Only,  I  guess  I've  got  to  tell 
you.  You  see  I  had  to  run  away  ! 
We're  eloping,  Jerry  and  I  ;  for  when 
Jerry  asked  my  father  about  it,  he  just 
pointed  to  the  door,  an'  Jerry  had  to  go. 
He  just  wouldn't  listen  at  all.  When  I 
went  after  the  cows,  Jerry  was  there,  and 
told  me  I  had  to  come,  anyway,  so  I  told 
him  to  meet  me  at  the  road  early  in  the 
morning  before  daylight.  My  mother 
helped  me  to  get  ready,  and  she  had  to 
do  it  when  Pa  wasn't  looking.  She 
helped  me  to  sneak  out  about  three 
o'clock  this  morning,  an'  I  got  in  the 
buggy  and  drove  away  with  Jerry.  I 
only  brought  a  bundle  along  with  me. 
Ma  got  it  ready  last  night,  an'  put  it  out 
side  the  house  where  I  could  find  it. 


374 


BAD  LUCK  TO  PUT  OFF  A  WEDDING. 

But  Pa'll  be  all  right  when  we  get 
back." 

Marjie  kissed  the  girl  tenderly,  and  for 
a.  moment  did  not  speak.  At  last  she 
said  :  - 

"  Well,  you  must  make  the  best  of  it. 
At  any  rate  you  have  your  mother's  con 
sent,  and  it  happens  that  you  are  just  of 
age.  But  what  a  child,  —  eighteen!  I 
am  twenty.  —  Not  so  old  to  have  already 
lived  a  lifetime.  —  But  you  are  such  a 
baby,  Taggie  !  But  come,  let's  see  what 
we  can  do  to  enlarge  your  trousseau." 

Trunks  and  boxes  were  overhauled, 
and  many  useful  and  dainty  garments 
were  forced  into  the  young  girl's  posses 
sion.  "  You've  got  no  right  to  object, 
Taggie,"  insisted  Marjie.  "  I  have  more 
than  I  need,  and  these  things  are  of  no 
earthly  use  to  me.  You  are  a  tiny  mite 
beside  me,  but  most  of  these  things  will 
fit,  and  these  shirt  waists  are  sort  of  ad 
justable.  The  short  skirts  will  do  nicely, 
and  the  long  ones  can  be  remedied  when 
we  get  around  to  it." 

"  What  part  am  I  to  play  in  the  fairy 

375 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

god-mother  act  ?  "  laughed  Kitty,  coming 
in  upon  them. 

"  You  can  furnish  the  wedding  gown," 
was    Marjie's    quick    reply.       "  You    are 
just  the  same  size." 

Kitty  thought  for  a  moment,  then  hur 
ried  out  of  the  room.  She  returned  soon 
with  a  dainty  white  organdy  dress  which 
she  placed  in  Taggie's  hands,  saying  to 
the  astonished  girl :  - 

"  One  happy  girl  was  married  in  this, 
why  not  another  ?  I've  been  wanting  to 
get  rid  of  it,  for  it  isn't  considered  good 
luck  to  keep  one's  wedding  dress.  Try 
it  on,  I  am  sure  it  will  fit  you.  Then  I 
can  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  how 
lovely  you  will  look  when  you  are  mar 
ried,  for  I  cannot  go  to  town  with  you." 

It  is  true  that  dress  makes  a  difference 
in  a  person's  looks.  It  was  astonishing 
how  it  transformed  sweet  little  Taggie. 
She  was  surprisingly  lovely.  But  then 
she  was  a  bride, — and  a  runaway  one  at 
that. 

That  evening  in  the  quiet  hotel  par 
lor,  Jerry  and  Taggie  were  married,  and 

376 


BAD  LUCK  TO  PUT  OFF  A  WEDDING. 

over  in  the  Bucket  of  Blood  the  gang 
drank  to  the  health  of  the  couple,  "  too 
good  to  stay  long  in  these  parts " ;  at 
which  the  proprietor  retaliated  with : 
"  Too  good  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
such  as  you." 


377 


CHAPTER    XL. 

"  I    SAY    YOU    SHALL    WAKE    UP  !  " 

WANT  to  see  Mrs.  Howell," 
said  a  woman's  coarse,  mas 
culine  voice.  "  An'  I  want 
to  see  her  quick  !  No  mat 
ter  if  she  is  in  bed,  I  want  to  see  her ! 
Mrs.  Margaret  Navarre  Howell,  if  you 
please !  What's  the  number  of  her 
room  ? " 

The  woman's  loud  voice  in  the  hall, 
reached  Marjie  as  she  lay  in  bed  thinking 
of  the  sweet  wedding  of  the  evening,  and 
the  happiness  that  the  future  held  for 
these  two ;  —  thinking  what  the  great 
love  of  a  noble  man  meant  to  her,  and 
of  the  dreariness  of  the  future  apart  from 
him. 

The  woman's  voice  brought  her  out 
of  bed  in  an  instant.  It  was  a  voice 
from  the  past.  She  recognized  it  at 


"I   SAY    YOU    SHALL   WAKE   UP." 

once,  and  held  her  breath.  Then  with 
an  impulse  born  of  the  moment,  she 
opened  the  door  slightly  and  half  spoke, 
half  whispered,  --  "  Lil !  " 

The  woman  heard  her,  and  leaving 
the  astonished  chambermaid  standing  in 
the  hall,  made  her  way  to  Marjie's  door 
and  entered  the  darkened  room. 

"  I'm  mighty  glad  you  heard  me  !  " 
she  exclaimed,  attempting  to  lower  her 
voice.  "  That  idiot  out  there  wouldn't 
'a'  given  me  the  number  if  I'd  stood  there 
all  night !  " 

"  Wait,"  said  Marjie,  "  until  I  dress. 
I  was  in  bed.  I  will  light  the  lamp  in  a 
moment." 

"  I  can't  stay  but  a  minute,"  said  the 
woman.  "  I  tried  to  see  you  before 
to-night,  but  they  wouldn't  let  me.  I 
can't  leave  George  very  long.  You  see, 
he  got  in  a  little  trouble  over  in  the 
Bucket  o'  Blood  last  night,  an'  there  was 
a  lot  of  shootin'  goin'  on.  George,  he 
got  hit,  and  Tim  come  a  runnin'  over  to 
tell  me  about  it.  I  had  him  brought  over 
to  my  place.  He's  mighty  bad  off,  an' 

379 


MARJIE  OF  THE  LOWER  RANCH. 

keeps  a  callin'  for  you  all  the  time,  so  I 
thought  I'd  come  over  an'  get  you.  It's 
lucky  you  come  in  town  just  as  you  did. 
Tim  an'  me  ain't  been  here  but  a  week. 
Got  tired  of  Sandy.  Too  small  a  town 
to  do  much  business,  so  we  thought  we'd 
try  this  place  for  a  while." 

Marjie  was  horrified.  Finally  when 
the  woman  gave  her  an  opportunity 
to  speak,  she  asked  :  "  Is  he  in  any 
danger  ? " 

"  The  doctor  says  he  can't  live  till 
morning, --that  he  ain't  got  no  show  on 
earth.  You'll  come  with  me,  won't 
you?"  Marjie  did  not  hesitate. 

"  Certainly,"  she  answered,  "  I  will 
go,  but  what  can  I  do  for  him  ? " 

The  woman  began  to  cry.  "  He's 
callin'  for  you  all  the  time.  He  just 
worships  you  !  Anyway,  he'll  be  quieter 
when  you're  there.  You  can  pray  for 
him.  —  I  don't  know  how.  I  guess  he'd 
die  easier  if  you  was  there  a  praying  for 
him  an'  forgivin'  him.  —  He  ain't  such  a 
bad  one,  though,  —  but  he  just  lost  his 
head  over  you,  and  his  senses,  too.  Kid 

380 


"I   SAY    YOU    SHALL   WAKE    UP." 

was  tellin'  me  about  him.  Kid,  he  was 
sent  up,  but  he  broke  jail  and  skipped  the 
country." 

"Why  isn't  Tom  with  him?"  asked 
Marjie  who  was  dressing  with  trembling 
hands. 

"  I  sent  Tim  after  him  this  afternoon, 
as  soon  as  the  doctor  said  he  couldn't 
pull  through.  He'll  be  here  to-night,  I 
reckon." 

"  I'm  glad,"  said  Marjie.  In  another 
moment  she  was  ready,  and  followed  the 
woman  out  of  the  hotel  down  the  dimly 
lit  streets  into  the  back  door  of  a  saloon. 

There  upon  a  bed  in  a  small  room  lay 
George  Howell,  raving  in  the  delirium 
of  his  last  suffering.  The  doctor  sat  be 
side  him.  When  they  entered  he  looked 
with  surprise  at  the  beautiful,  white-faced 
girl,  and  with  a  sudden  involuntary  move 
ment,  stood  up  and  offered  her  his  chair. 
She  sank  into  it,  and  with  frightened 
eyes  watched  the  dying  man  as  he  clawed 
weakly  at  the  bed  clothing,  moving  his 
hands  helplessly  as  if  in  search  of  some 
thing.  Suddenly  he  attempted  to  sit  up, 

381 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

but    in    great    agony    fell    back    mutter 
ing  :— 

"  I  swore  I'd  keep  away  from  her  but 
I'll  never  deliver  any  of  your  damned  let 
ters  !  —  Marjie  —  Margaret !  —  No,  you 
kept  her  from  me  !  I  might  have  won 
her  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you  !  -  -  She'll 
never  get  your  letter! — Why  don't  she 
come  to  me  ? —  Marjie  !  —  You're  cheat 
ing,  damn  you  !  Where  did  you  get  that 
card?  Don't  shoot!  " 

At  first  his  delirium  only  frightened 
Marjie.  Instinctively  she  moved  away. 
Then  the  words  that  he  had  muttered 
began  to  repeat  themselves  in  her  brain,— 
soon  with  a  meaning.  Frantically  she 
approached  the  sick  man,  now  mutter 
ing  incoherently  and  less  wildly.  She 
dropped  upon  her  knees  beside  him,  grasp 
ing  his  restless  hands  with  almost  super 
natural  strength. 

"  My  letter  !  -  -  He  wrote  !  What  have 
you  done  with  it  ?  Tell  me !  Answer 
me !  If  you  have  kept  it  away  from 
me, —  if  you  still  have  it, —  then  I  implore 
you  to  give  it  to  me  !  Where  is  it  ?  - 

382 


"I    SAY    YOU    SHALL   WAKE    UP." 

Make  him  tell  me  !  "  she  cried,  turning 
to  the  approaching  physician.  "  Make 
him  speak  to  me !  Don't  let  him  die 
without  telling  me  !  If  you  can  bring 
him  back  to  consciousness  just  for  one 
minute. —  It  cannot  be  impossible  !  " 

"  He  can't  last  till  morning,"  answered 
the  doctor.  "  Bullet  passed  through  this 
side  and  located  in  lung.  Hear  his 
breathing  ?  I'm  afraid  he's  past  con 
sciousness.  He'll  keep  getting  weaker 
and  will  finally  sleep  quietly  away." 

"  But  he  must  waken  !  —  He  must !  " 
Then,  frantically,  to  the  dying  man  :  - 
"  You  must  wake  up  and  speak  to  me  ! 
It's  Marjie,  do  you  hear? — I  say  you 
shall  wake  up  !  "  She  took  him  firmly 
by  the  shoulders  and  shook  him  with  all 
her  strength.  The  man  groaned  in  pain, 
opened  his  eyes  and  looked  at  her. 

"  Marjie  !  "  he  said  huskily.  "  You 
have  come  to  me  !  I'm  done  for,  I  guess, 
and  God  knows  I  deserve  it.  But  I'm 
glad  to  die  !  —  I  loved  you  so, —  and 
wanted  you. —  It's  the  only  excuse  I  can 
find  for  all  my  meanness.  I  must  have 

383 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER   RANCH. 

been  crazy,  little  girl,  to  cause  you  such 
misery.  You  were  good  to  come.  I 
wanted  —  to  give  you  a  letter  It  came 
in  my  mail,  shortly  after  His  Highness 
went  away.  I  was  mad,  —  crazy.  I 
wouldn't  give  you  that  much  happiness. 
I  kept  it.  It's  there  in  my  clothes.— 
My  vest, —  Marjie,  say  you  —  forgive  — ." 

"  Oh,  a  thousand  times  !  Yes,  I  for 
give  you !  I've  never  held  it  against 
you." 

Suddenly,  almost  with  the  man's  last 
conscious  breath,  she  bent  and  kissed  him 
tenderly. 


884 


CHAPTER   XLI. 

WHAT    THE    LETTER    TOLD. 

OT  until  Marjie  returned  to 
the  ranch  did  she  open  her 
letter, —  the  message  from  her 
dead. 

This  night  alone  in  her  room  she  took 
it  from  her  bosom  and  looked  at  it  as  she 
had  done  many  times  before.  It  had  not 
been  opened,  but  its  edges  were  worn  and 
cut,  and  a  stain  of  blood  obliterated  the 
postmark  and  address.  Coming  from  the 
dead  man's  pocket,  it  seemed  to  Marjie 
that  the  one  who  had  written  it  must 
also  be  dead.  To-night  she  would  read 
his  message.  How  good  God  was  to 
grant  her  this  great  solace  ! 

She  opened  it  with  fingers  that  trem 
bled  violently.  A  newspaper  clipping 
slipped  out  and  fell  to  the  floor  and  she 
stooped  to  pick  it  up.  As  she  did  so  the 

385 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

headlines  of  the  article  caught  her  eye. 
The  surprise  was  so  great  that  for  a  time 
she  read  no  more.  The  article  ran : 

"  GILBERT    ARMOUR    LIVES  !  " 

"  His  Chicago  friends  and  acquaintances  will 
be  glad  to  learn  that  Gilbert  Armour  has  at 
last  returned  to  this  city.  Many  will  remem 
ber  the  murder  of  his  step-father,  Morton 
Wilson,  which  happened  while  he,  with  a 
small  party  of  his  friends,  were  camping  in  the 
Rocky  Mountains.  Many  will  also  remember 
that  Gilbert  Armour  was,  as  believed  by  many, 
unjustly  suspected  of  the  crime,  and  was 
arrested  on  the  strength  of  the  suspicion.  He 
escaped  before  a  trial  could  be  given  and  was 
never  again  heard  of  until  he  returned  to  this 
city  yesterday. 

"  Everyone  will  remember  the  suicide  and 
confession  of  Walter  P.  Wilson  which  caused 
so  great  a  sensation  two  years  ago.  In  an 
insane  moment  he  murdered  his  uncle  Morton 
Wilson,  and  for  years  allowed  the  blame  to 
rest  upon  young  Armour.  Finally,  consumed 
with  remorse  over  his  dreadful  crime,  he  wrote 
a  full  confession,  and  then  took  his  own  life. 
Since  then  a  wide  and  thorough  search  has 
been  made  for  Gilbert  Armour.  Where  he 
has  been  during  these  years  is  still  a  mystery. 
The  many  friends  of  his  youth  will  be  glad  to 

386 


The    surprise    was    so    great  that  for  a 
time  she  read  no  more." 


WHAT   THE    LETTER   TOLD. 

learn  of  his  return.  His  mother,  Mrs.  Wilson, 
still  resides  in  her  magnificent  home  in  this 
city." 

When  Marjie  read  the  heading  and 
one  or  two  lines  of  this  article,  a  mist 
came  before  her  eyes  and  life  itself  seemed 
almost  extinguished  before  the  shock  of 
the  marvelous  truth.  Afterward,  when 
her  strength  returned,  she  read  his  letter. 
It  was  brief,  telling  her  that  he  could 
not  yet  believe  or  accustom  himself  to  his 
own  good  fortune.  In  conclusion  he 
wrote  : 

"  Be  brave,  as  you  always  are,  my  Marjie. 
Some  day  soon  I  will  come  for  you,  and  in 
spite  of  every  obstacle,  I  will  take  you  to  my 
mother  as  I  hopelessly  longed  to  do  that  night 
upon  the  embankment  in  our  Retreat.  I  have 
told  her  of  you  and  she  blesses  you.  That  I 
may  prove  worthy  of  you  and  the  great  happi 
ness  to  come,  I  fervently  pray." 

The  date  showed  that  the  letter  was 
but  two  weeks  old. 

Then  Marjie  lived  as  she  never  lived 
before,  inspired  by  the  certainty  of  her 
happiness. 

387 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

Jerry  remained  in  town  to  finish  his 
month's  work  with  the  stableman,  and 
to  give  Taggie  a  taste  of  "  city  life," 
which  pleased  the  little  bride,  for  now 
that  the  deed  had  been  committed  and 
she  was  Jerry's  wife,  she  feared  some 
what  to  sue  for  her  lather's  blessing. 

Marjie  had  gone  home  to  Kitty  with 
Tom.  After  she  read  her  letter  and  be 
gan  to  realize  to  the  full  extent  the  hap 
piness  that  had  come  to  her,  she  seemed 
a  different  being. 

Tom  had  taken  immediate  charge  of 
the  Howell  sheep  ranch  in  the  mountains. 
It  was  now  "  lambing  time,"  the  busiest 
part  of  the  sheep-man's  year.  It  became 
necessary  for  him  to  give  it  his  undivided 
attention,  so  leaving  his  ranch  and  cattle 
in  the  hands  of  a  competent  man,  he 
gathered  up  his  small  family,  the  cook 
and  a  few  household  goods,  and  moved 
up  into  the  mountains,  declaring  that 
there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  be 
separated  from  his  home  life. 

Kitty  was  delighted  with  the  change, 
and  Marjie, —  who  shall  say  ?  When  she 

388 


WHAT    THE    LETTER    TOLD. 

first  entered  the  long,  flat  ranch  house,  it 
seemed  to  her  that  she  must  suffocate  with 
the  vivid  memories  that  crowded  upon 
her.  Every  detail  of  the  past  seemed  as 
clear  as  when  she  lived  them  in  reality. 
At  every  turn  she  made  through  the  house, 
she  could  fancy  that  she  saw  the  huge 
figure  of  the  woman,  Lil,  and  in  the  back 
ground  hovered  Howell,  the  passion  in 
whose  eyes  seemed  to  scorch  her  soul. 
But  the  past  faded  quickly,  as  it  does  in 
youth,  leaving  only  in  its  track  the  dim 
impression  of  an  ugly  dream. 

That  day  Marjie  found  in  the  pasture 
Jerry's  gray  Lady.  She  had  not  seen  the 
small  pony  since  she  left  the  ranch  so 
abruptly  the  summer  before.  Lady  caught 
sight  of  the  girl  first,  and  came  racing 
across  the  field  to  meet  her,  bringing 
Marjie  back  to  herself  again, —  to  a  full 
realization  of  the  present,  and  the  glori 
ous  hope  of  an  unclouded  future.  She 
led  the  small  creature  up  to  the  house  to 
be  inspected  and  admired  by  Kitty  and  the 
little  ones,  who  crowded  about  with  many 
expressions  of  delight.  Then  taking  her 

389 


MARJIE    OF   THE    LOWER    RANCH. 

sister  aside,  she  told  her  all  of  the  story 
which  she  had  been  unable  to  tell  before, 
but  much  of  which  Kitty  had  already 
guessed. 

"  And  it  was  all  Lady's  doings,"  she 
concluded  softly.  "  I  wonder  if  she  knew 
then, —  could  know  how  it  would  all 
come  out." 

"  Perhaps  not  Lady,"  said  her  sister, 
"  but  God  knew. —  There  was  a  discord 
somewhere  in  the  harmony  of  truth,  and 
it  had  to  be, —  all  the  misery  and  tragedy 
and  suffering.  So  long  as  evil  exists,  such 
things  must  happen.  That  is  the  natural 
sequence  of  broken  laws." 


390 


CHAPTER    XLII. 

WHERE  THEY  FOUND  EACH  OTHER. 

>ARJIE  was  planning  a  sur 
prise  for  Jerry  and  his  little 
bride.  With  Kitty's  assist 
ance  she  had  transformed  the 
cabin  in  the  Retreat  into  a  neat,  cozy 
home  which  would  seem  a  veritable 
palace  to  the  young  people.  She  had 
done  something  else  during  the  week 
after  she  came  to  the  mountains.  She 
had  spent  an  hour  in  conversation  with 
old  man  Winter,  the  result  of  which  was 
that  he  was  willing  and  anxious  to  receive 
his  wayward  daughter  into  his  open  and 
forgiving  arms. 

The  young  people  were  expected 
home  in  a  few  days.  The  alterations  in 
the  cabin  had  been  completed,  and  late 
one  warm  spring  day,  Marjie  rode  up 
there  to  assure  herself  that  everything 

301 


MARJIE    OF    THE    LOWER    RANCH. 


was  in  readiness  and  nothing  forgotten 
that  would  add  to  their  happiness.  She 
had  not  been  gone  from  the  ranch  a 
half  hour  before  a  dark,  distinguished 
looking  man  rode  up  to  the  house  and 
inquired  for  her.  Kitty  left  the  sleepy 
babies,  and  with  quick  beating  heart  and 
extended  hands,  went  out  to  meet  him. 
She  felt,  before  he  had  given  his  name, 
who  he  was,  and  the  light  in  her  face 
gave  him  greeting.  She  told  him  where 
Marjie  had  gone. 

"You  are  her  sister,"  he  said  simply. 
"  My  heart  has  told  me  that." 

A  half  hour  later  he  found  Marjie 
standing  beside  Lady  at  the  entrance  of 
the  Retreat,  looking  down  into  the 
sparkling  stream.  She  heard  the  splash 
ing  of  water  and  turned  quickly  toward 
him,  going  a  few  steps  to  meet  him,  then 
stopped,  weak  from  the  surprise  and  hap 
piness  that  fairly  deluged  her  heart. 
Though  powerless  to  move,  her  face  was 
raised  to  him  with  a  look  of  the  sweetest 
greeting  that  ever  man  received.  There 
upon  the  embankment,  with  the  soft 

392 


WHERE  THEY   FOUND   EACH   OTHER. 


moon  just  stealing  above  the  mountains, 
and  the  creek  flowing  noisily  at  their 
feet,  they  found  each  other  forever. 

"  Listen,"  said  Marjie  softly,  when  the 
moon  had  climbed  still  higher.  "  Did 
you  ever  know  that  water  could  make 
such  sweet  music  ? " 

Lady  watched  them  for  a  while,  then 
whinnying  softly,  came  up  and  rubbed 
her  head  against  them.  Together  they 
made  their  way  down  the  moonlit  gulch, 
to  the  ranch  below,  and  to  Kitty. 


THE    END. 


393 


NOTICE 

If  you   will   return    this  page   with 
your  name  and  address  in  full  to  the 

C.  M.  Clark  Publishing  Company, 
211  Tremont  St.,  Boston,  Mass., 

we  will  send  you,  free  of  expense,  a 
beautiful  poster  reproduction  of  frontis 
piece,  printed  in  four  colors,  size  14x28- 

Name 

Address 

City  and  State „ _ 


Miss 


BY 
DWIGHT    TILTON. 


Petticoats 

(Mow  PETIT  COCUR) 

N.  Y.  TIMES  SATURDAY    REVIEW, 

JUNE    14,    1902. 

"  From    the    moment    when     Agatha 
Renier  makes  her   appearance    'swaying 
like  a  scarlet  vine'   to  the  bridle  of  old 
Mrs.    Copeland's    maddened  horses 
and      stopping     their     headlong 
progress,     the   reader    has    a 
right   to   expect   marvelous 
developments.     And     in 
this     he    is     not 
d  i  s  a  ppo  in  t  ed 


NASHVILLE   AMERICAN 
MAY    22. 

"Here  is  a  tale  of  modern 
life  to  make  you  hold  your 
breath  over  one    episode  and 
wonder  what  is  coming  next.    It 
is  an  American  novel  full  of  inter 
est  and  brightness,    and    so  full  of 
action    that    the  incidents  fairly  step 
on    each    other's   heels." 
SEVEN  BEAUTIFUL  ILLUSTRATIONS  IN  COLORS. 

Handsomely  Bound,  Price  $1.50.     At  all  Booksellers 
C.  M.  CLARK  PUBLISHING  CO.,  BOSTON,  MASS. 


MasonV  Corner  Folks 


1  The  Village  -Gossips  wondered  who '  he  was, 
what  be  waj,  what  he  came  (or,  and  bow 
long1  he  Intended  to  stay." 


"THE  BEST  NEW 
ENGLAND STORY 
EVER  WRITTEN" 

A  SIMPLE  LOVE  TALE 

OF  COUNTRY  LIFE 


A   WEALTH   OF 

NEW    ENGLAND 

VILLAGE  CHAR/ 

ACTER,     SCENES 

AND    INCIDENTS^ 

FULL    OF    HOMELY   HUMAN 

INTEREST. 

BY 


HONEST 

EXPRESSIONS 

FROM  THB 

PRESS  OF 

AMERICA  s 
Boston  Evening:  Train 
script. 

"Bright,  fresh  and 
breezy,  an  absolutely 
true  picture  of  New 
England  life  and  char 
acter.  By  all  means 
read  QUINCY  ADAMS 
SAWYER." 

Philadelphia     Even 
ing  Telegraph. 

"  It  is  as  sweetly  nat 
ural  as  the  breath  of 
the  fields.  The  gopd 
folks  who  move  in  its 
pages  are  real,  and 
their  honest  humor  and 
e very-day  views  of  life 
are  cheerful." 

The    Living   Church, 
Milwaukee. 

"We  predici  ihe  bool: 
will  be  more  alive  in 
five  years  thaa  most 
of  the  books  of  to-day; 
for  it  has  tenderness, 
and  has  sympathy,  and 
has  life." 

Kansas  City  Times. 

"It  is  a  New  England 
story,  but  it  is  so  truly 
a  human  nature  picture 
that  it  fits  any  where  in 
the  United  States." 

New  York  Journal. 
"  It  is  full  of  interesting 
incidents,  quaint  say 
ings,  healthy  sentiment 
and  a  certain  irresisti 
ble  humor  that  makes  it 
a  book  that  will  appeal 
to  readers  who  are 
tired  of  the  conven 
tional  society  and  the 
so-called  historical 
novel." 

Nashville  American. 
>l'It  is  by  long  odds 
the  simplest  and  truest 
picture  of  .New  England 
fife  rand  character  ever 
penned." 

New  York  World. 

"There  is  no  story 
with  a  more  vigorous 
swing  of  homely, 
healthful  life." 


CHARi-ES    FEL.TON  PIOGIN  THE  AUTHOR  OF 

"  BLENNERHASSETT." 
Bound  In  Cloth,  £0.75  and  $1.BU.  At  all  Bookseller* 

C-  M.  CLARK  PUBLISHING  COMPANY,  BOSTON 


The  Most  Talked  About  Book  of  the  Day 

BLENNERHASSETT 


A  THRILLING   ROMANCE 


"The  narrative  is  well  sustained,  the 
the  situations  are  so  intelligently  managed 
is  with  regret  that  the  reader  lays  down 
finis." — New  Orleans  Picayune^  Sept. 

"The  inci 
dents  of  the  tale 
are  intensely 
dramatic,  and 
the  pictures  by 
C.  H  Stephens 
are  among  the 
most  striking 
ever  given  to 
any  historical 
novel." 

Boston  G/cbe, 

October  j. 

At  All 
Booksellers. 

Bound  in 

Blue  Silk 

Cloth. 

Gilt   Top. 


style  vigorous  and  attractive,  and 
and  humorously  connected,  that  it 
the   book   and   contemplates  the 
JQOI, 


«« Throughout 
the  clever  chain 
of  the  events  of 
Aaron  Burr's 
dramatic  1  i  f  e 
runs  the  thread 
of  a  unique  ove 
story — a  golden 
threa  d  th  a t 
gives  its  gleam 
to  sombre  reali 
ties.  A  brave 
book  and  a 
Story  forcefully 
and  clearly 
told."  Chicago 
Record-Herald, 
Sept.  28" 
12  FULL-PAGE 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
PRICE, 


BY  CHARLES   FELTON   PIDGIN 


The  Author  of 

QUINCY    ADAMS   SAWYER 

Hot  li  these  Volumes  issued  iu  popular  cloth-bouud  edition*, 
fully  Illustrated,  at  75  cents. 


C.     M.     CLARX     PUBLISHING      COMPANY.      BOSTON. 


The  Critics  are  Enthusiastic 

-OVER= 

ON 

SATAN'S 
MOUNT 

By  DWIGHT  TILTON,  author  of 
"MISS  PETTICOATS" 

1A/U<v4>  H°W  TO  KNOW  THE  BOOKS, 
W  Hat  April,  1903.  '_' This  story  has 
a  prophetic  side,  reminiscent 
of  '  Looking  Backward,'  but  its 
clever  satirizations  and  veiled 
illusions  to  living  personages  give  it  more  of  actuality  than 
that  widely  read  social  study." 

NEW  YORK  AMERICAN,  Saturday,  April  11,  1903.  "  So 
strongly  written  and  presents  a  national  peril  so  boldlv 
treated  as  to  insure  immediate  attention  and  provoke  com 
ment  which  will  make  this  book  of  more  than  passing  value." 
THE  NEW  ORLEANS  SUNDAY  STATES,  Sunday,  April  5, 
1903.  "  It  probes  the  secrets  of  capitalism  and  labor,  of 
politics  and  journalism  with  a  surety  and  a  conviction  al 
most  discomposing." 

THE  OUTLOOK,  March  21,  1903.  "  Wall  Street  and  Wash 
ington  are  the  theatres  of  action,  and  in  the  characters  many 
will  think  they  recognize  composite  pictures  of  prominent 
men.  The  story  is  fanciful,  but  not  without  power  and  not 
without  a  lesson." 

REACHED    30,000    MAV    I,    1903 

Illustrated.         Bound  in  Red  Art,  Crash         Price,  $1.50 
C.  M.  CLARK  PUBLISHING  CO.  *  BOSTON 


IN     PREPARATION 

"LOVE 

STORIES 
FROM 
REAL 
LIFE" 


BY 

MILDRED 

CHAMPAGNE 


C.  What  is  your  love  story  ?  C.  We 
all  have  our  own  little  love  story. 
C,  You  have  had  yours,  but  you  have 
never  told  anyone  of  it,  perhaps.  And 
then  again  perhaps  you  have.  C.  At 
least  you  are  interested  in  the  love 
affairs  of  others.  C,  There  is  nothing 
more  interesting  than  a  good,  lively 
love  story;  this  book  is  a  collec 
tion  of  some  that  sparkle  brilliantly. 


We    expect    to     publish     this 
bcoK  about  tSept.  1 


C.  M.  CLARK  PUBLISHING  COMPANY,  Boston 
v^          


For  $1.50 


IN  STAMPS,  MONEY  ORDER  OR 
EXPRESS  ORDER,  WE  WILL 
SEND  YOU,  POSTAGE  PREPAID, 
A  SET  OF 


9 


7T  H  E  S  E  posters 
are  reproduc 
tions  of  original 
oil  sketches  done 
exclusively  for  us  by 
well-known  artists. 

They  vary  in  size 
from  12  x  18  inches 
to  18x26  inches,  and 
are  most  attractively 
printed  in  four 


BEAUTIFUL 
POSTERS 

VOUR   CHOICE 

OF  THE  FOLLOWING 

POPULAR 

CLOTH  BOUND  AND   ILLUSTRATED   $1.50 

NOVELS. 

MARJIE  of  the  LOWER  RANCH, 

By  Frances  Parker. 

LOVE  STORIES  from  REAL  LIFE, 
By  Mildred  Champagne. 

MISS  PETTICOATS, 

By  Dwight  Tilton. 

QUINCY  ADAMS  SAWYER, 

By  Charles  Felton  Pidgin. 

BLENNERHASSETT, 

By  Charlea  Felton  Pidgin. 

ON  SATAN'S  MOUNT, 

By  Dwight  Tilton. 

TITO, 

By  William  Henry  Carson. 

HESTER  BLAIR, 

By  William  Henry  Carson. 

THE  CLIMAX, 

By  Charles  Felton  Pidgin. 


colors. 

Address  C.  M.  CLARK  PUBLISHING  COMPANY,  BOSTON. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


NON-RENEWABLE 


SEP  1  1 


DUE  2  WKS  FROM  DATE  RECEIVED 


A     000  046  206     9 


